


Cirque Du Mystère

by HowAboutThatSnapback



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Brief starvation, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Ilegal Activity, Implied Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:49:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 27,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26941675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowAboutThatSnapback/pseuds/HowAboutThatSnapback
Summary: After being found by the ringmaster of Cirque Du Mystère, Stanley finally has a chance to get off the streets, but will he mess it up like he's mess up so many other things in the past? Is his past really buried or will it come back to haunt him? Or is it his future he has to worry about?
Relationships: Stanley Pines & Ma Pines, Stanley Pines & OCs, Stanley Pines & Sherman "Shermie" Pines, Stanley Pines & Stanfort Pines, Stanley pines & Filbrick pines
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	1. Found by Chance

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn’t help myself as soon as I saw notllorstel’s post and then tashaquekaysha’s post on tumblr. They inspired me so much!

Four years since he was kicked out onto the streets by his own family and it’s just as rough surviving now as it was when he first started. He’s still _broke_ , still has no friends or family, and still _hungry_. And what’s worse is that in the four years he’s been on the streets he’s seen way too many things for someone his age to see and been through too much. He had to chew his way out of the trunk of a car- for goodness sake!

He sighs and leans back in his carseat and runs a hand through his hair while trying to think of his next move. What is there to do? He very well can’t go pickpocket someone at this hour- no one’s awake yet- but his stomach’s way too persistent to keep him in his car in the woods for very long. He’ll have to at least _try_ to do _something_ to stop the pain of his stomach twisting with emptiness.

With an exasperated sigh he reaches into the back seat and grabs one of his multiple white shirts- why his father packed mostly white shirts, he’ll never know- and sniffs it. It doesn’t smell _too_ bad so he throws it over his shoulder and reaches into his “bathroom” in the glove compartment for his deodorant and and body spray. He doesn’t want to smell like he is- a homeless guy.

He throws on his shirt and then glances at the cluttered back seat- he’ll clean it later.

Once he’s in town he drives through the mostly lonely streets with the occasional early morning worker on their way to work. He glances at the tank and sees it’s under ¼th full and sighs- it’s not exactly healthy for the engine to get so low, but it’s not like he has much of a choice.

He pulls into the first gas station that he sees and turns off his car immediately. He looks into his wallet and-thankfully- finds a dollar. That should be enough for a little gas in the tank and some food- not much food with so little, but enough.

There’s a knock on his window and he looks at a man with dirty blond hair, brown eyes, and tanned skin- obviously from hours of standing in the sun- standing there in his work uniform. “Excuse me, would you like me to fill up your tank?”

Stan nods and rolls down the window and hands over the dollar bill. “Could you give me a little bit of change?”

“Yes, sir,” the man says, taking a dime out of his pocket and handing it to Stan and gives him a regretful look. “Sorry, it’s all I have on me.”

“It’s not problem, thanks,” Stan grunts and gets out of his car to stretch while the man does his job in filling up the tank a little bit. Having gas to get places was more important anyway. Sure he’ll get a few gallons of gas, but it’ll be enough to last him until he can come by some more money. Once it’s done he shakes the man’s hand. “Thanks.”

“You take care, now,” the man says.

“You, too,” Stan replies and drives off.

His stomach protests being denied food and he grimaces as it twists painfully. He needs food and it doesn’t matter how much it is, he needs it. He goes to the nearest diner he can find and walks in with his hand wrapped protectively around the dime- the last scrap of money that he has until he pickpockets some unfortunate soul.

He sits in a booth and takes a menu to see what the most filling thing he can get would be. Everything was just so expensive! He’d need _at least_ a quarter to get a something solid on his stomach. The most he can get food-wise would be fries by themselves.

“How can I help you, young man?” the waitress asks as she walks over to him. She’s short and curvy with light skin, light brown hair, and green eyes- a pretty woman that he’d say were in her thirties.

“Could I just get some fries or something?” Stanley asks, putting the dime on the table. “As much as that’ll get me?”

She nods and takes the dime and walks off to do her job.

As soon as she’s preoccupied with another customer- an older gentleman with a neatly cut white beard and mustache, slicked back salt-n-pepper hair, olive skin, and blue eyes- Stan leans down and puts his forehead on the table and hugs his middle as his stomach does a particularly painful twist. He’s too hungry to even think straight and his vision is becoming iffy while his head feels light- he’s gonna pass out if he doesn’t get food soon.

“Here ya go, sweetie,” the waitress says and he immediately sits up.

He looks down and finds an entire _breakfast_ in front of him- including orange juice! “Um, excuse me, miss, I didn’t order this.”

Why is he doing this? He should be digging in and acting like he paid for it in full.

“That man over there paid for your food,” she answers, gesturing to the older gentleman.

“Tell him I say thanks,” Stanley says, immediately unwrapping his fork and knife to dig into the pancakes.

“I would if I could, hun, but he just left,” she says. “Enjoy your meal.”

He blinks in surprise- why had the man paid for Stan’s food and left?- and only when his stomach twists again does he ignore his confusion and dig into the meal. Bacon, eggs, hash browns- the whole nine yards! He’ll have to thank that man if he ever sees him again.

* * *

_Gah! Another shirt ruined,_ Stan thinks as he holds the scolding hot shirt away from his body. He’d spilled his ten cent coffee all over himself and- needless to say- he’s irritated that he’s wasted something so expensive.

Another rough patch where he’s got no money for food, gas, or any other luxury. It’s a pain, but that’s what he’s been dealt. He can’t turn back the clock and redo that night no matter how hard he’s wished or prayed.

With a sigh he takes off his shirt and uses the water from the bathroom sink to try and clean it before any stains can set in. After taking ten minutes to ensure that his shirt will have only the minimum mount of staining he wrings it out as best he can before putting it back on- he can’t walk out into public without a shirt.

He groans at how wrinkled and messy he looks- he can’t seem to catch a break at all!

Despite this he walks out with his chin up and goes straight to his car that’s parked a bit away from the diner he was just in. He takes off his wet shirt and drapes it out the window before putting on a new shirt while muttering under his breath.

“Excuse me, young man, you left this in the diner.”

Stan looks out his window and finds a man with neatly trimmed facial hair, slicked back salt-n-pepper hair, olive skin, and blue eyes wearing a pair of slacks and white button down shirt holding his wallet out to him between his forefinger and middle finger. The face seems familiar, but he can’t quite recall from where.

“Um, thanks,” Stan stutters while taking his wallet.

“You’re welcome,” he says. “Just be mindful where you have it.”

With that said the man turns and begins walking away.

Suddenly it clicks in his mind where he saw the man before. In the diner a few towns over- just a few weeks ago- and he had paid for the breakfast.

As quickly as he can he puts his shirt on the steering wheel and rolls up his window and gets out of his car while locking the doors. He sees that the man’s about to walk around the corner and he shouts for the man to wait up and runs after him. Thankfully the man’s stopped and is waiting for Stan to catch up, though he seems to have a confused look on his face.

Stan skids to a stop in front of the older man and blanches for a moment before coming back to his senses. “I- uh- I just wanted to say thanks for paying for my breakfast a few weeks back- you have no idea how much that means to me.”

The older man shrugs. “You seemed to have hit a rough patch.”

“You have no idea,” Stan grumbles.

“What was that?”

“N-nothing, sir,” Stan stutters awkwardly.

The older man observes him for several seconds and then grabs his wallet and pulls out a piece of paper. “Here, a woman told me that someone may need this and you seem to be the person. Come by if you wanna have a good time.”

Stan takes the paper and looks at it. It’s the size of a pamphlet and has a deep violet bottom that fades into midnight blue that fades into forest green at the top and in orange letters outlined in red are the words “ _Cirque Du Mystère_ ” and below that is the picture of an animated lion roaring and inside the mouth stands a person that’s also animated.

“A… circus?”

“Yeah. You can even get free concession- just tell ‘em Louis sent you,” he says. “Come if you want or give away the ticket- show’s tomorrow night so better choose fast. See ya, kid.”

The man walks away, leaving Stan standing there with the ticket in his hands.


	2. A Tempting Offer

Stan sat in his car for hours that night without sleep, thinking about what he should to while he stared at the paper in his hands. Normally he didn’t fall for that fortune crap- his mother was a good reason- but he could get free food at this place and get free entertainment. Still, there’s a bit of a weight of hesitance in his chest.

What if this is a set up? What if someone’s trying to lure him someplace to kill him? This wouldn’t have been the first time the 22 year old had been tricked in such a way, but it would’ve most certainly been the most elaborate.

 _You’ve gotten yourself out of tougher situations… you can do it again,_ he assures himself and then nods with conviction. He’s going to the circus- if only to get some free food and save his money.

He puts the paper on the dash and gets as comfortable as possible to get some sleep- something tells him tomorrow’s gonna be a long day.

* * *

Stan woke up earlier than he expected. He decided to skip breakfast- why bother then he was going to get a buffet at the circus?- and go into a gas station bathroom to freshen up. He has on- surprise, surprise- a white t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

In the time between then and him having to go to the cirque, he decides to clean his car and make it look better than it does. He stuffs his dirty clothes in a bag and decides that if he comes by enough money he’ll go to the laundry mat and have them washed instead of washing them in the next sink that he sees.

By the time he’s finished it’s about five ‘till six- the show starts at 6:30- so he hops in his car and looks at the paper to look at the address of the performance. It takes ten minutes to find it, but he manages.

He makes sure he has the ticket in hand and locks up his car before walking to the entrance where a young man- about Stan’s age if he had to guess- with dark skin, amber eyes, and kinky black hair tied in a pony tail taking tickets and allowing people in- the line was surprisingly long for a circus he’s never even heard of before.

He waits in line for a good five minutes and is relieved when it’s finally his turn- he’s never been all that patient. When it’s finally his turn he hands the man his ticket and blinks in surprise when the man in front of him folds it into a box and opens the lid to grab something inside- the actual ticket. He unfolds it and holds the paper out to Stan so that it looks the same as before he folded it.

“Enjoy the show,” the dark skinned man says.

Stan takes the paper and nods. “Thanks.”

 _That was weird… I wonder how he did that,_ Stan thinks as he makes his way into the large tent.

He makes his way straight to the concession stand where there’s another line, but this time shorter- thankfully. His stomach growls and he does his best not to react to what his stomach does- the usual stabbing pain of hunger- and just stands in line like any normal person. Ten minutes later after telling them that Louis sent him he had five hotdogs (he ate three already and had smuggled two more and ate those) and a coke while sitting in the back closer to an exit, but not close enough for someone to come in and recognize him right off the bat- a sage choice considering he’s kind of a criminal.

“Ladies and gentleman! Please, take your seats, the show’s about to begin!” A woman’s voice says merrily.

He finishes the second of five hot dogs and gets as comfortable as he can in a public place and sips on his beverage.

Suddenly the lights that were swaying about the audience all swing abruptly to focus on one spot in the ring. The man that had given him the ticket was standing there in black slacks, a white shirt, a red coat with golden tassels on his shoulders, and a large black top hat with a red ribbon wrapped around it’s base.

He lifts his right hand and grabs the rim of the hat to take it off and he bows to the audience with his blue eyes looking at everyone.

“Thank you all for coming!” He says in a deep, booming voice as he stands to his full height with his top hat still held to his stomach. “Ladies and gentlemen, I am your ringmaster, Leo Louis Lawrence! Please enjoy _Cirque du Mystère!_ Our first act is a young man we spotted as talent when he was a boy and he’s been astounding audiences ever since! I give you… Thomas Green!”

Out walks the young man that took his tickets.

Stan watches and swallows the last bite of his hotdogs- it was nice to have a full belly for once.

He doesn’t say anything and simply simply takes off his blazer and places it on a coat hanger- it was probably there the whole time in the shadows- and rolls up his sleeves to show he has no tricks up his sleeve. He holds up a finger and reaches into thin air and suddenly a knife’s in his hand- suddenly Stan wishes he were closer so he could observe and learn the trick just in case he needs to sneak a knife in anywhere.

With a flick of his wrist, Thomas suddenly has a fan of knives- eight, Stan would say- and he throws them into the ground and they disappear. Stan leans forward in his seat and then suddenly the knives reappear from the ceiling and land in the stage in front of him where they _should have_ landed.

 _Wouldn’t that have come in handy last year,_ Stan thinks as Thomas picks up the knives

The man holds up his hands in the “stay still” signal to the people directly in front of him- which is never a good thing when someone has a knife. He moves a few of the knifes into one hand and then throws them _directly towards the audience in front of him!_ Stanley hears screams, but he’s more focused on the knives and how they blink out of existence. Thomas whirls around and catches the knifes between each of his fingers about an inch from his (straight) face.

 _How did he do that?!_ Stanley thinks as he leans forward with interest while drinking his coke.

Thomas then throws the knives upward and then he holds his hand out and catches them as they shoot out of the ground and makes the knife-fan fold back into one blade and bows to the audience.

“He’s not one for talking, but he sure can work some magic!” The ringmaster says as he walks back onto the stage with Thomas walking off of the stage. “Next is a death defying act by none other than the Flying Family!”

The spotlights move up high as Louis gestures upward and Stan looks up to find five people standing on their perches and waving to one another. It’s hard to tell what they look like from below, but he knows that two of them have light blond hair, one has brown, and the other two have dirty blond hair.

One of them- a female judging by the length of hair- jumps out off her platform and Stan’s stomach drops- _she’s gonna die!_

Thankfully one of the others- a male? They have medium length hair and is slightly taller than the woman that jumped off- catches her in their mid-swing.

The entire time Stan is at the edge of his seat with worry- at that height they could _die_. Each “miss” the person in the middle of the air got caught by another- which is another reason Stan’s worried the entire performance.

“What a heart racing performance!” Louis said as the lights go back to him.

 _I’ll say,_ Stan thinks as he scoots back in his seat.

Each performance is as… _enchanting-_ he supposes the word is- as the last. There was a woman that took a fortune from one of the members of the audience- he wasn’t as impressed with this with his mother being a “psychic” and all- and a man that could lift 1000 tons, a snake charmer, puppies doing tricks, an animal tamer who worked with a lion and a tiger at once, and a magician that made half the audience disappear!

Stan was _enthralled_ the entire time and didn’t even want to get up to refill his drink or get more food because he was afraid he’d miss something.

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen for coming out!” Louis says with a bow.

Stan wishes that it could’ve lasted longer, but all good thins must come to an end. He throws away his trash, but keeps the cup- it could be useful sometime later on- and walks out of the tent.

He gets into his car and turns on the car to see that- once again- he’s low on gas. He groans and pinches the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb in irritation. He’s too low to even _drive_ to get gas so he’d have to _walk_ to get gas and he’s way too tired for that tonight- maybe tomorrow morning. When the parking lot is near empty he drives his car to the very back corner- behind a tree, thankfully- and turns off his car.

 _Looks like I’m spending the night in front of a circus_ , he thinks as he gets comfortable. They’ll probably be gone by the time morning comes so everything should be fine.

* * *

He doesn’t know how much sleep he gets when he hears tapping at his window, but he’d say no more than an couple of hours. He rubs his tired eyes and adjusts his seat so that he’s sitting up and looks out to find a dark haired woman- in her thirties at least- with pale skin and dark brown eyes standing in front of his car- one of the acrobats, he believes.

“Excuse me, young man, I’m afraid I have to ask you to go home,” she says after he’s rolled down the window.

 _Kinda of am at home,_ he thinks, but says nothing aloud.

He smiles sheepishly. “I’m sorry, but I’m stuck here until morning- I can’t get gas until then.”

Her eyes dart around his car and she focuses on him. “I suppose I can make an exception.”

“Thanks,” he says with a charming grin.

“You must be starving,” she states. “Would you like some leftovers from dinner? I could heat it up for you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he says- he doesn’t trust people, particularly people who pop up in the middle of the night (he learned his lesson).

“No, I insist. Lock up your car and come with me, hun,” she says and backs away enough for him to open the door.

He closes his window, gets out warily- checking his pocket for his knife just in case- and locks his car before following the woman towards the tent. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and wraps his hand around his switchblade as a sort of security blanket- it makes him feel safe knowing he can whip it out in a moment’s notice and take on any threat.

She walks around the tent and he blinks upon seeing multiple trailers scattered closely behind it- how had he not noticed?- and there are a few people out and about, talking with one another. Everyone begins to eye him, some blatantly and some glancing casually, but all attention is on him.

He wishes he had on his leather jacket so he could flip up his collar and hide a little better, but he doesn’t and- as he learned to do within his first year on the streets- bluffs his confidence.

She opens a trailer door and turns to Stan when he doesn’t follow. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to come in?”

“Oh, okay,” he murmurs and climbs up the steps in two strides and enters the surprisingly large trailer that’s- apparently- designated for cooking since there’s no furniture save for a table to eat at where a woman sits.

The fortune teller. She’s a woman slightly below average in height with golden bronze skin, hazel eyes, and tight reddish-brown ringlets pulled back by a bandana. She’s a little on the plump side and if Stan had to guess she was in her early thirties- though he could be wrong.

“Oh, it’s the boy that Louis gave the ticket to,” the fortune teller says- oh she’s definitely in her forties or fifties if she’s calling him a boy. “A little on the skinny side… we’ll have to give him something good to eat.”

 _Am I really that skinny?_ Stan thinks, glancing down at himself. Sure, he’d lost quite a bit of weight and didn’t have the pudge he had before, but he wasn’t _scrawny_. He’d built up enough muscle to at least be _lean._

Despite these thoughts he puts on a charming smile. “Hello, ma’am.”

She smiles. “The name’s Ruth.”

“Miss Ruth,” he says.

“Nice to see a young man with manners,” she says. “I take it you found him where I told you he’d be?”

The pale woman nods as she gets out the leftovers and hands them to the shorter woman. “Yes, I did.”

“Good, Rita,” Ruth says and then notices that Stan’s still standing there awkwardly. “Go on, have a seat- the food’ll be ready in a minute.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he murmurs and sits down in the seat that allows him to see the two women making his food.

The door opens and in wake Louis wearing his black slacks and white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and top two buttons undone. He has a little sweat on his brow and there are a few strands of hair in his face which shows that he’s been doing some labor.

“Are you finally showing me nice treatment and warming up food for me?” he asks with a pearly white smile.

“No, we’re warming up some food for our guest,” Ruth says with a smirk.

Louis looks at Stan and smiles. “Ah, so you did end up coming to the show. How’d you like it?” Asks the ringmaster as he takes the other seat in front of Stan.

The young man shifts uncomfortably and says truthfully, “It was great. I enjoyed myself.”

“I’m glad you did,” the older man says and leans back in his chair with blue eyes observing the young man. “So, I take it that _El Diablo_ out there is yours?”

“Yeah,” Stan answers, eyeing the man warily.

“It’s a beauty,” Louis says. “You can barely tell that a person lives in it.”

Stan stiffens and his muscles bunch up, ready to make a run for it if he has to. “What’re you talking about?”

“I mean, I’ve noticed that you lost weight since the first time I saw you and no one that lives in one place will travel from down to town unless they’re a salesman and I don’t see any indication that you are one. I also noticed yesterday how you had clothes in the back and tonight that you slept in it,” Louis explains calmly.

“Whaddoya want? Money? Somebody to do the dirty work for ya? What?” Stan demands, his hand adjusting just in case anyone makes a lung for him and eyes darkening while they narrow in suspicion.

The women seem to pause and watch him warily for a moment, but Louis sits comfortably and waves off their worry so that they keep working on the food.

“I don’t want any of that,” Louis says with a soothing voice, as if he were talking to a scared animal- which in a way, he kind of is. “What I want to know is if you’re tired of living on the streets.”

 _It could be a trick, one of those slave trading things,_ Stan thinks, remembering having to chew his way out of the trunk of a car to avoid something like that.

“What’s it to you?” The young man practically sneers.

“I don’t take joy in seeing a kid out in the streets. I’m willing to help, but only if you’ll let me… I’m offering you food and shelter at the price of your contribution to help us here in the Cirque make sure that things run smoothly,” Louis says and then leans forward and puts his hands on the table for Stan to see. “You have my word, I will allow no harm to come your way so long as you are under my care in the Cirque.”

Stan observes the man for a second and notes that the man’s fingers aren’t crossed. “Tempting… I’ll think about it…”

Louis leans back with a smile that Stan can’t place the emotion of. “Smart boy.”


	3. Welcome to the Cirque

Rita and Ruth had fed both Stan and Louis and they sat in relative silence, Stan glaring at the man across the table suspiciously the entire time that they ate. Stan had thanked both women for the food and then walked out to go back to his car. On his way out Louis called, “Give an answer by tomorrow evening!” and then went back inside.

Now Stan is sitting in his car and unable to sleep no matter how exhausted he is, contemplating the offer.

There are too many things that could be shady about this and he could’ve been targeted months prior so that the man could do some nice things for him to get Stan’s trust and to have him fall for whatever they’re trying to pull over him. It could be anything from turning him into a slave and shipping him somewhere to taking his car for parts. Either way, he has to proceed with caution.

There was also the thing Louis did to consider. He must’ve experienced at least a little mistrust in the past because he had placed his hands flat on the table so that they were visible. If hands were visible, that means they can’t cross their fingers and it makes an honest deal- most of the time.

He keeps glancing toward the circus, just waiting for his opportunity to slip away like everything else in his life.

 _Why? Why’re you offering?_ Stan thinks with a snarl of frustration and wishing dearly that he was a mindreader so that he could make the right decision without having tot take an entire night to think over it.

He doesn’t get any sleep that night.

He’s been thinking all night on only two hours of sleep at most and he’s slowly come to the conclusion- or at least he thinks he has.

He looks out the window and sees Rita walking over to him with a plate at hand- _breakfast already?_ \- and a smile on her face.

He rolls down the window as Rita gets closer. “Morning, Miss Rita.”

“Morning,” she replies and then frowns. “Have you gotten _any_ sleep?”

“I’ve got enough,” he assures. “I always look exhausted the first few hours… is… that for me?”

Rita seems to have decided to let him slide into the next conversation because she nods and says, “Yes. Ruth said that you’d probably need it so we whipped up some breakfast and set some aside for you.”

He hasn’t eaten this much within twenty-four hours in a long time; he’s not even sure his stomach can handle it anymore, but he’ll try so that this woman’s efforts won’t be in vain.

“Thank you, Miss Rita,” he says and takes the food gingerly.

“You can come on in any time you’re ready,” she says and then walks back to the cirque.

He can barely stomach half of the food, but he did his best. Now that he thinks about it, the reason he couldn’t could either be because his stomach’s not used to receiving an abundance of food _continuously_ or because he’s anxious. Probably both.

He lets out a sigh and runs his fingers through his hair after putting the rest of the breakfast into some Tupperware that he had been given by a kind woman about a year ago (she insisted she had too much anyway and practically forced him to take it)- besides, there was no need to waste good food by having the air ruin it.

This is it… this is where he makes a decision. Hopefully he won’t live to regret it.

He gets out of the car with the plate in his hands and walks to the trailers behind the large tent. He notes how it’s slowly being taken down- it must take a whole day to back up to leave for the next down.

Louis sees Stan and walks forward. “Well, what’s your decision?”

Stan’s fingers tap the plate and he says, “I’ve decided… I won’t go with you. There’s too many things I don’t know and I’m not willing to risk it… here’s your plate back. Please tell Miss Rita and Miss Ruth that I’m grateful for their kindness and food and that I said goodbye.”

 _(A/N: Hohoho! Bet you didn’t see_ that _one coming)_

Stan turns to walk away, but Louis says, “Wait a second.”

“What?” Stan asks, turning around, ready to defend himself, but he’s shocked to see the man pulling out his wallet.

Louis takes out a few bills and holds them out to him. “Here. That way you can pay for gas and get a few meals- hopefully find some stability.”

Stan scrutinizes the man for a few seconds before he takes the money. “Thank you, sir.”

“Good luck,” Louis says with an emotion that Stan can’t quite place- familiar, but long forgotten.

“Thanks. You, too,” he replies and then walks away.

Better safe than sorry.

* * *

It’d been months since that day and he only had a dollar left of the twenty-eight dollars that Louis gave him. He spread that money out as far as he could, but he just can’t last long on the streets. It’s a wonder that he’s lasted five years!

He’s had some regret turning down Louis’ offer- who just gives someone almost thirty dollars after they’ve turned down their offer?!- but he’s sure he made the right choice. It was too shady and he knows _nothing_ about _anyone_ there. It was the safest bet.

His stomach growls and he curses mentally while walking toward his car from a long day of trying to avoid the cops- he forgot that they wanted him in jail in this town. He can’t exactly stop anywhere so he’ll have to go another night hungry- it’s not like he’s not used to it by now.

“There he is!”

 _Shit._ He ducks into the nearest alley and he’s so glad there’s a ladder and they were too far to catch up if he kept running anyway. He climbs up nimbly and pulls the ladder up before lying flat on the stairwell so that the police- or he assumes to be the police- keep running.

When he hears the footsteps fade he peeks to make doubly sure and climbs down as quietly as possible- just in case someone was nearby- and then takes his hoodie from around his waist and tugs the hood up to cover his hair. He’s starting to get a mullet and he’s contemplating getting his knife and just chopping it all off- it’s not like he hasn’t before.

A few blocks later and he can see his car. Relief floods through his system and he walks over as quickly as possible to get in and leave this town, but he’s suddenly yanked away from his door and thrown into the nearest alley. Without hesitation he pushes himself to his feet and gets in a defensive position.

“Tony?”

Tony was a man a bit older than him- about thirty years old- with slicked back dark brown hair, emerald eyes, and lightly tanned skin. He’s broad shouldered and basically much larger than Stan is.

“Hey, kid. Been waitin’ for ya to show up and pay me back,” the large man says. “Figured you’d have to learn your lesson the hard way.”

“I’m sorry, Ton’ but it’s been rough,” Stan says, backing up a little bit and trying to think of a way to get to his knife without being obvious. “I’ll get you your money when I come by some!”

“You’re too slippery- no- you’re learning your lesson now,” Tony says and rushes forward.

Stan tries to duck to the side and dart out of the alley, but the large man blocks his way and grabs him by the shirt and slams him into the wall. Stan grabs the man’s pinky and bends it backward to his wrist and the man cries out in pain and ends up dropping Stan who scrambles up and runs towards his car while pulling out his switchblade and his keys.

A meter away from the car he’s grabbed by the collar and dragged back into the alley. Stan lashes out with his knife and gets the man on the cheek, chest, and forearm before getting a good stab into his stomach. Tony grabs his wrist and twists his arm painfully so that he drops the knife and knees the young man in the gut.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Tony snarls.

“Actually, my friend, _you_ shouldn’t have done that,” a semi-familiar voice says.

Stanley looks up and finds the ringmaster from that circus- Stan can’t think of his name at the moment- standing there in a pair of denim jeans and a red long-sleeved dress shirt. He has his feet spread apart and one hand in his pocket and the other hand holding a couple of grocery bags while his icy blue eyes are glaring at the man.

“This ain’t none of your business, old man,” Tony says.

“I believe it _is_ my business since I know this boy,” the ringmaster says and then with a movement faster than a man his age- fifty? sixty?- should be able to, throws a knife into Tony’s arm. Stan drops and runs over to where the ringmaster is and is a little caught off guard when the man puts a protective arm out, as if ready to move Stan further behind him if necessary. “Now, young man, I think it’s best you leave and not bother this boy from now on.”

Tony glares at the man before turning his vicious gaze on Stanley. “You’ll make a mistake one day and this guy won’t be ‘round to protect ya.”

Stan gulps and watches as the man walks towards them. The ringmaster pushes him gently behind himself and out of the way so that Tony can walk away. Once the both of them are sure that the man’s gone the older man turns to Stan with an emotion that Stan can’t place.

“Are you alright?”

Stan assesses himself and feels that he’s going to have a couple of bruises from being manhandled and he’s a little shaken, but all in all, he’s fine. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”

“You had me worried,” the man says as he walks into the alley and picks up the dirtied knife- suddenly Stan realizes what the emotion in the man’s eyes were- and then cleans it with his handkerchief and hands it back to the young man. “I take it, you might want this.”

“Yeah,” Stan murmurs and takes his switchblade back and then eyes the man carefully. “Why’d you save me? What’re you even doing here?”

“We’re performing in this town for the next week,” the man answers and then lifts the bags in his hand. “I was getting a few things that we forgot for dinner and when I saw you in trouble, I decided to help since I remembered how much you struggled before… I see you’re not doing that much better.”

Not really. In fact, he was so used to going days without eating that he’s sure that if he were to stuff his face with a meal from any fast food joint, he’d only be able to finish one-fourth of it because his stomach’s shrunk so much.

“Thanks for saving me,” Stan says, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“You know… the offer still stands. You can come work at the cirque and I’ll keep thugs like that off your back.”

Stanley looks at the man’s hands and finds that they’re held out a little so that he can see that none of his fingers are crossed. This man is offering food, shelter, and protection just for some manual labor. Stanley’s already turned it down once and lived to regret it, but it could still be some gigantic ploy.

 _But you can’t take the risk of running into anymore goons,_ some part of Stan’s mind says and he can’t help, but agree with it.

He sighs and runs a hand through his tangled mess of hair. “Alright… I accept your offer.”

The man smiles, relief in his eyes- an emotion Stan’s very familiar with. “Well, then. Welcome to the Cirque.”


	4. First Night

Stan ended up driving them back to the cirque with directions from Louis- he finally remembered his name- and pulled up behind the giant tent where the man tells him to park. Louis gets out of the car and waits patiently for Stan to get out, lock his car, and follow.

They walk through the miniature trailer park and Stan keeps his hands stuffed in his pockets so that no one could see them shake- damn, he needs a smoke. He licks his lips and tries to kill the urge to smoke and concentrate on following the man that saved his life.

Louis comes to a door and knocks on it twice before entering and Stan’s both surprised and unsurprised at the fact that it’s the kitchen trailer and Rita happens to be in there.

“Hi, Louis,” she says and then perks up at the sight of Stan. “Oh, you’re back! Dinner’ll be ready in an hour _if_ Leo got the right stuff.”

“Why’re you using that name? I got the right stuff this time,” Louis says while placing the bags on the counter and taking out the items.

Rita glares at him with an almost playful air to it- almost. “Remember the Christmas Disaster of ‘32?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, but notice how it didn’t happen again after that?”

“Because we don’t send you out to buy ingredients without someone going with you,” Rita replies. “Now go get the boy settled while I take over from here.”

“Whatever you say, Rita,” Louis grunts and leads the young man out of the kitchen trailer.

“Nice to see you again, hun!”

“Nice to see you again, too, Miss Rrrita,” he says, hesitating for a second because he was trying to get her name right as he exits the trailer and follows the ring leader. “So where’re we going?”

“To a spare trailer- it’s yours now, I suppose,” Louis answers. “We’ll attack it to the back of your car and you can travel like that with us on the road when we move.”

Stan rubs his thumbs over his forefingers nervously, but otherwise he doesn’t really show how uncomfortable he is over such a drastic change. To go from living in one’s car with no one to living in a trailer surrounded by people makes him a little on edge because he doesn’t _trust_ any of them. He just knows that they’re a lesser evil than what he’s gone through on the streets and that _hopefully_ they’re really what they say they are.

“Alright, son, this is yours,” Louis says, patting a plain white trailer.

 _Son?_ Stan thinks, a little startled by that, but he slides that to the side and says, “How will I be able to find it? It looks the same as the others.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll learn. Just ask someone and they’ll show you the way if you forget,” Louis assures.

“Okay,” Stan mutters.

“Wanna take a look inside?” Louis asks while taking out a set of keys and letting then jingle.

“Um- yeah.”

Louis tosses the keys to Stan and he barely catches it and the keys nearly fall to the ground. He goes to the door of the trailer and unlocks the door. He’s a little apprehensive about seeing what would be… his? It’s been a long time since he’s had anything other than his car and even then nothing was his- it was his father’s.

He shoves those thoughts away and opens the door.

_(A/N: It was a pain for me to find 1950s/60s mobile home images and layouts, but I finally did it, so[here](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2F3.bp.blogspot.com%2F-xF_ROgO30ks%2FT5GYeBEZV1I%2FAAAAAAAAbhY%2FkcpwBThLTOE%2Fs1600%2F04_1960%2BSkyline%2BFifth%2BAvenue%2Bplan.jpg&t=NThmZGM2N2U0MTE2OWJkNjcxMDA3ODg4MTU2NTJhOThhNGNmMGQwOSxnUWVxSk9lWA%3D%3D&b=t%3A72koZrb10AyaFuHkgboMXQ&p=https%3A%2F%2Fsnapback-gravity-falls.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F130311526356%2Fcirque-du-myst%25C3%25A8re-chapter-4-first-night&m=1&ts=1602381408). Look at it as a guideline to navigating Stan’s new home.)_

He walks into living room and there’s a tan couch pushed against the wall and near it a recliner, both facing the television- a luxury he hasn’t had since he was kicked out- and a maroon rug on the floor with a table on top of it in front of both the recliner and couch. His eyes trail to the left and he sees a kitchen/dining room area that already has a table and chairs there and he’s surprised to see a breakfast bar with stools tucked underneath it. When he looks to the left he sees a hallway and at the end is a maroon curtain so he can only assume that it leads to the bedroom.

“You have two bedrooms, the one on the very end is the master bedroom and the first door to your right is the guest bedroom. The second door to your right is a bathroom. We gave you the bare minimum so that you can decorate it however you want,” Louis says from behind him at the entrance.

Stan gulps and realizes that his throat feels closed up like he’s about to cry and upon this realization he realizes that his eyes are watering up.

He just might cry.

He’s never seen such kindness except in short bursts by people and at the time they show the kindness they often don’t have that much to give (even when he was given a few pennies he had felt so much appreciation you’d have thought that he’d been given the world and that was because he knew that their hearts were in the right place) and to be given so much at one time is overwhelming. 

He clears his throat and speaks with a clear voice that’s slightly huskier than usual, “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

Louis doesn’t answer at first, but when he speaks again Stan can tell he turned away slightly- probably to give as much privacy as possible in this moment of emotion. “No problem, kid.”

For the next twenty minutes Stan and Louis move his things into the mobile home and Louis informs him of the basics in the running of the place and what time they typically ate and where they ate depending on where they stayed.

Suddenly in the middle of all that he stops and turns to Stan. “Are you allergic to anything?”

“Why?” Stan asks, eyes narrowing.

“I want to make sure that Rita and Ruth don’t give you whatever you’re allergic to… like Alissa- the contortionist- is allergic to peanuts so we make sure there’s no peanuts on or even around her food,” Louis elaborates as he puts the bags down and keeps his hands in visibility.

For a minute Stan contemplates over telling him his allergy. What if he plans to kill him by making it look like an accident? But then again, why do all of this if he could’ve killed him any other way and made it look like an accident at any other point before?

Once the internal debate settles he says, “Fish… I’m allergic to fish.”

“Really? Severely?”

Stan shrugs. “Not really. I can go fishing and touch fish all day long with no problem, even eat a few bites, but I can’t eat too much.”

Louis nods. “Duly noted… I think that’s everything. You settle in and I’ll send someone to get you when dinner’s ready.”

“Thanks,” Stan calls as Louis closes the door after himself.

And then he’s all alone in the trailer- _his_ trailer. He takes the bags with his clothes in it and walks to the very back and sees a large bed with white sheets and a navy blue comforter thrown over it. He opens the closet and finds a few clothes in it already so he doesn’t have just white shirts anymore. He hangs up his clean clothes and throws the bag of dirty clothes in a corner, promising himself he’ll wash them the next day.

 _All of this is mine,_ he thinks in disbelief as he sinks into the couch- much more comfortable than his carseats. He covers his mouth with both hands finally allows himself to cry- after so long of letting his emotions build up- he allows himself to cry. Tears of pain, sorrow, hysteria, and- something he’d never thought he’d ever do considering how his life had gone so far- _joy_.

Every single tear he didn’t shed in moments he wanted to cry for the five years was shed in those ten minutes of sobbing like a child. He tries to keep quiet because he knows there are people milling about outside of the- _his_ trailer and when he finishes he feels absolutely exhausted.

He gets up and goes into the bathroom to clean up and drips water into his eyes to rehydrate them and keep them from getting too red. Another ten minutes and he looks like crap, but he doesn’t look like he’s been crying, just really tired and that’s something he can live with.

The knock on the door jars him and he opens the door to find the fortune teller- Ruth he thinks- standing there with a plate of food.

“Erm… hi, Miss Ruth,” he says.

“Hello,” she replies- thank goodness he got her name right- and hands him the plate of food. “I figured that you didn’t want to eat with a bunch of people yet so I brought you your food.”

“Thank you,” he says, feeling his stomach twist with emotion and hunger.

“No problem, boy… if you want to talk about anything, I’m all ears,” she says.

He nods. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you again for the food, Miss Ruth.”

Without another word she walks away and he closes the door. He had a feeling that he won’t get away with eating by himself for long so he decides to enjoy it while he lasts.

He finishes his food and washes the plate and places it on the counter and promises to give it back in the morning. For now he needs to get some sleep.

He takes off his shirt and tosses it to the corner of the room where his dirt clothes are and kicks off his pants before falling onto the bed. He’s out cold the second his head hits the pillow.


	5. First Day

Of all the things for Stan to expect to wake up to, a knock on the door was the last of them. He pushes his body out of bed and suddenly he realizes what he’s done- to get up from a _bed_ \- and he’s very much awake now. He’s confused about why he’s not in his car somewhere _starving_ when he remembers what happened the previous night.

“G-gimme a sec!” Stan calls while pulling on a pair of pants so that he won’t be _too_ indecent for whoever’s knocking at his door. After he exits his room he nearly goes to the door in the living room, but there’s another knock on the door across from the bathroom. He looks out the peephole to see Rita- thank goodness he put on pants- and he opens the door. “Erm… yes, ma’am?”

“It’s tine to get up- breakfast is ready,” she says with her eyebrows shooting up at his attire. “I’ll give you ten minutes to freshen up.”

“Yes, ma’am, and thank you,” he says before closing the door.

After taking a quick three minute shower- when was the last time he’d been in one anyway? Three… four years?- and then after making sure his hair’s decent he goes into his room to put on a pair of clean jeans- he thinks it’s the last that doesn’t smell rancid- and one of the new shirts- a gray one with _Cirque Du Mystère_ written on it in neon green.

After kicking on his shoes he grabs his keys- which he nearly forgot- for both his car and his trailer and then locks up after himself. Once sure both entrances are locked and all the windows- he’d been too tired to check the pervious night- he makes his way toward the smell of food.

He doesn’t particularly want to be around people, but he _does_ want food, so he’ll suffer through being in a crowd of people.

Rita hands him a plate with a warm smile when he gets to the food trailer and he sits as far from people as he can so that his back isn’t to anyone. He’s hunched over his food in a protective way and his eyes dart to those around him as he eats. It’s almost animalistic with the look in his eyes- as if he’s ready for someone to come snatch his food from under him before he’s had his fill.

He makes it through one-third of the food before his stomach’s had enough- pitiful considering he’s a grown man- he should be able to eat two plates of food before he gets that full.

“Aren’t you going to finish that?”

Stan stiffens at the voice to the side of him and he looks at Thomas whose face is pretty much as he remembers from the show- straight- but the corners of his lips are slightly more downturned than Stan would guess they’d usually be.

“Er- uh- I’ll finish it later,” Stan promises.

Thomas stays silent for a moment before saying. “Want me to finish that for you? They’re gonna have more food ready later.”

Stan shrugs and pushes his plate towards the other young man. “Have at it.”

Thomas sits next to him and Stan’s body tenses a little at the unexpectedness. When Thomas starts eating he relaxes a little and keeps his eyes on the practical stranger. They sit in silence for a while, even after the other young man was done eating.

“I think you’re going to spend the day with Louis,” Thomas says out of nowhere.

“What makes you say that?”

Thomas shrugs. “Just seems like it. Normally he’d shove a new guy to me or something, but I think he’s taken a bit interest since you turned down his offer the first time.”

Stan eyes the dark skinned man and then asks slowly, unsure of how to choose his words without coming off as completely paranoid. “So… I take it he thinks… I’m… a- a plaything?”

 _That didn’t come off as paranoid at all,_ Stan thinks sarcastically.

“No,” Thomas says. “I think he knows that you’re uncomfortable with strangers.”

“What makes you say that?” Stan demands.

“The way you went out of your way to avoid sitting with anyone and how you’re tense with me here,” Thomas replies.

 _Am I_ that _easy to read?_ Stan thinks with a frown. “Well, my Ma always said don’t talk to strangers so… there’s that to consider.”

Thomas smirks. “Funny guy, huh? You’ll get along with people here.”

Stan gets the feeling that that smirk is the equivalent to a broad grin- he’s known plenty of people like that so he can tell just by looking at developing laugh lines. He’ll observe this man for tells for the next few weeks- or months- like he will everyone else to see how they really are- to see if he can trust any of them at all.

“Alright, everyone! Finish up your food and get to work- practice if you have to, double check everything, and get ready for the show tonight!” Louis shouts in a commanding voice.

Thomas gets up. “Have fun.”

He walks away while stuffing his face with the last bit of breakfast.

Stan gets up and stuffs his hands into his pockets while nervously running his thumb over his forefinger. He doesn’t know what to do with himself- this is his first day after all.

Louis notices his awkwardness and walks over with a smile. “I’ll be taking you around and showing you the ropes for today- y’know, until you get more comfortable around people.”

 _Is it that obvious?_ Stan wonders before asking, “So, what’re we gonna do?”

“What aren’t we gonna do?” Louis asks. “You’re the type of person I see being a jack of all trades so for the next few days I’m gonna show you around the cirque and we’ll see what you’re more… adept to and we’ll work on that with you. You may end up having to do the odd job now and again, but mostly you’ll be helping the others with practice and setting up for performances.”

“Okay… so what’re we doing _first?_ ”

Louis grins. “We’re going to help Thomas with his act.”

* * *

Stan hadn’t known what he expected, but it certainly wasn’t something so… elaborate.

“You’re… you’re shittin’ me,” Stan says in disbelief.

“Watch your language,” Louis says offhandedly- as if that’s something he has to say all the time- before elaborating on what he’s just explained. “Yes, the entire stage is rigged and we have people just as skilled at knife throwing helping in Thomas’ act.”

“Wait, wait, wait… so you use the _exact_ same stage no matter where you go?” Stanley questions.

“Yes,” Thomas says with a straight face.

“So how does it work?” Stan inquires.

“Well, that, my boy, is smoke and mirrors,” Louis says and kneels down with a small grunt at the exact spot where the knives would disappear and puts his pinky through a little. “Right here are slots just thick enough to get the knives through- if he misses then the trick is ruined, which is why he has to be so precise.”

Stan’s eyes light up as he comes to a realization. “You have dozens of knives and people. This is just big enough for someone to be able to throw knifes back to him and up in the rafters- where it’d too dark to see someone- there’s someone there to catch the knives and throw some back down when necessary along with people in the back… though how do you make the ones that go straight at the crowd disappear?”

Louis seems to be impressed at how fast Stan’s caught on and he says, “Special dissolvable material- has to be made special. It dissolves into needles so that the glint is still there, but so that they’re less noticeable. We have one person in the crowd that’s specially placed that will catch them when no one’s paying attention.”

“Ingenius,” Stan mutters, completely fascinated by the idea while he thinks about the act.

As amazing and magical as it was to watch, there were logical explanations for each and every thing that they did and that appealed to Stanley more than a lot of things- though only coming second to money.

Thomas holds a knife out to Stan, holding the blade in his hand and the handle towards the lighter young man in a silent offer, “Wanna learn how to throw a knife?”

At first Stan looks between the knife and Thomas suspiciously before carefully taking the handle of the knife.

Thomas holds an extra knife in his hand and shows Stan exactly how to hold it. Once he’s sure that the grip is right and then shows him how to throw and tells him not to let his wrist flick when throwing it at a straight forward target.

Stan’s first attempt was pitiful- as it would be since he’s only ever thrown knives when he was absolutely desperate and out of options and only a few times have they ever landed right.

For the next half hour Stan throws the knives- trying his hardest to get it to hit the target and do exactly as Thomas had done- stance, grip, and all. It isn’t until the knife hands in the cardboard that he’s even remotely satisfied.

Thomas’ eyebrows go up slightly and he claps- obviously only spending thirty minutes on practicing throwing a knife and making it is an impressive feat that he hadn’t expected Stan to do.

Stan wipes the sweat off his brow and smiles proudly. “I knew I’d get it!”

“Keep practicing,” Thomas says.

Stan pouts a little and then Louis adds, “Pracitice does make perfect.”

Suddenly there’s a bottle of water in his face and he blinks in surprise. “Huh?”

“Drink- you’ve got to stay hydrated,” Louis explains.

Reluctantly Stan takes the water bottle and shakes it and squeezes it to make sure no water will come out of any holes and then opens it to find that it was sealed. It definitely hasn’t been tampered with- unless that was done in the factory- but he’s so thirsty he discards that thought and downs the entire bottle.

“Thanks,” Stan grunts while wiping away some of the water that managed to get on his chin.

“Alright, now to move onto the animals,” Louis says with a broad grin, leading the young man out of the tent while Thomas waves goodbye with a straight face.


	6. Through the Eyes of a Master: First Day

Louis found it enlightening to observe their newest addition to the Cirque.

He’s definitely been through a lot- that’s for sure. It’s obvious the kid’s got trust issues seeing as he watches people like they’re going to double-cross him at any second _and_ turned down Louis’ offer at first because he didn’t trust it at all. The fact that if it weren’t for the fact that the kid left his wallet in the diner months prior he’d probably not know his name at all! Even that could be a fake name so he sticks with calling him the usual derogative words: “kid, son, boy” and the like.

Louis walks into the large animal area and section and sees the elephant- Lucy- rearing up on the animal tamer- Ray- an older man about Louis’ age with dark silver hair cut short with most of the length coming from the top and he’s got light skin and light brown eyes.

The young man that had been walking almost by his side hides behind Louis and he takes that as some confirmation that the boy already associates him- even if it’s the tiniest bit- with safety and security.

“Cam down Lucy!” Ray shouts with a thick Cajun accent and once the elephant calms down he puts a hand on her trunk. “You’re fine, you’re fine… Hey, Louis! Dis de new kid?”

“Yeah.”

Ray walks forward and holds out a hand and gives a broad grin. “Please to meet you, ah’m Ray Jackson.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” the boy replies.

“Got a name?”

“Stan Pines,” the boy answers reluctantly.

“Welcome to da cirque, Stan,” Ray replies. “Ah’m sho you’ll learn to love it.”

Stan nods, but doesn’t seem that sure about it- of course he’d still have some misgivings about a place where there are dozens of people that he doesn’t know at all, but Louis’ sure that he’ll slowly warm up to the cirque as everyone has- including himself.

“Would you mind letting the kid help you with the animals? Trying to see what he’s going to be good at,” Louis asks.

“Ain’t no problem! Come on ova. Da animals are cam so don’ you worry ‘bout none of dem snappin’ atchu.”

Stan hesitates and glances at Louis for confirmation that it’s safe so Louis decides to give him a reassuring smile and a nod of encouragement.

Louis stands to the side, watching Stan’s reactions for when the dogs gather around his ankles and sniff him. He kneels down slowly and when one small, dark brown pup tugs on his pant leg he picks it up with a smile and pets the top of it’s head.

“Hey, boy, that’s not nice,” he murmurs with a soft look in his eyes and when the puppy tugs at his sleeve he chuckles. “Got a little spunk, don’t you?”

 _He’s got a soft spot for animals,_ Louis notes with amusement as he begins to play around with them. Ray laughs when they pile up on top of Stan and pats his leg twice to get the older ones off of him so that left a few pups- including Stan’s apparent favorite, the dark brown pup with spunk.

“You wanna keep ‘im? He’s a rapscallion, dat one is, but he’s a good pup,” Ray says to Stan.

“Really?” Stan says with a light in his eyes that can only be described as hesitant excitement. 

It’s saddening for Louis to see that- the hesitant excitement. It’s ike he expects the offer to be taken away from him and to be laughed at. Louis can’t help but wonder what life did to this boy to make him so scarred and cynical. He should have been doing dumb, reckless things with friends his age and not alone on the streets. It makes him angry about whatever caused this boy to go through so much at such a young age.

“Of course!” Ray replies with a smile. “An’ you get ta name ‘im!”

Stan smiles- for the first time since he’d met the boy he well and truly smiles. Louis can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corners of his lips at seeing such a genuine smile. There’s still hope for this young man and that’s what he’s counting on.

“Alright, boy, what should we name you?” Stan asks the pup in his hands. “Rascal? Duke? Fang? Tyson? Shadow? Shadow?”

The dark pup gave Stan his full attention upon saying the last name and Stan grins while the pup nuzzles his hand.

“We gon’ put him wit de other pups fo’ now,” Ray says. “We got other animals to focus on.”

Stan hands his new pup over to Ray and he walks back to where the pups are kept and places Shadow in the pen.

“So… what’re we gonna do next?”

“We gon’ work wit de tiger.”

“What?” Stan says, all previous joy being replaced in incredulousness and fear.

“Don’ worry, she’s a sweetheart!” Ray says.

Stan glances at Louis who smiles and nods encouragingly. “O… kaaaay…”

Louis decides to follow and- not just observe, but show Stan that the tiger is- while a healthy fear- alright.

“Hello, Lily,” Louis says as he sees the familiar tigress lounging about in her cage. She sits up when she hears his voice and rubs against the cage as he gets closer so he reaches out a hand and rubs her side and her head when she presses it against his hand. “Did you miss me?”

Lily makes a huff that sounds sort of like a confirmation. He doesn’t know if she can understand him, but multiple times it feels like she does.

“Go on, pet ‘er,” Ray encourages Stan who stands a ways back from the cage. “If she wanted ta kill ya, she’d break outta de cage an’ do it- ain’t nothin’ man can make that can keep de big animals in if dey wanted ta get out.”

“How’s that supposed to make me feel better?!” Stan demands.

“Quit bein’ scared,” Ray says.

Stan huffs- obviously he doesn’t like being called- even if it was indirectly- a coward- and walks forward and stops so he’s standing behind Louis and he rubs his thumbs against his forefingers with obvious fear still in his eyes.

 _He’s gonna need a little bit of a push isn’t he?_ Louis thinks.

“Come here,” Louis says, waving the boy over with his free hand. When Stanley’s beside him he holds out his hand. “Give me your hand.”

“Why?”

“Trust me,” Louis says, looking into Stan’s eyes and trying to convince him that he means no harm. Reluctantly Stan holds out his hand and Louis grabs his wrists and tugs him closer to the tigress before putting Stan’s hand on her head. The look of pure wonder that overtakes the boy’s features makes Louis smile. “See? She isn’t that bad, now is she?”

“No…” Stan murmurs as he pets the large animal.

Ray lets the tiger out and Stan stays next to Louis until Ray talks him over to see how to groom Lilly and how to brush her teeth and even lets Stan do it- Stan was reluctant with brushing teeth, but he got to it eventually.

“Alright, girl, back inside. Now you get to meet Lunal- our lion,” Ray says. “Gotta let ‘im smell ya befo’ he let ya pet ‘im.”

Stan seems to take a liking to Ray- it would be hard not to warm up to the friendly Cajun- and will smile a little with pride when Ray praises him for his good work.

It seems that Stan’s a bit disappointed when they have to leave the animals, but he seems to get over it quickly- there’s plenty of other things left to do.

* * *

By the end of the day Louis can safely say that Stan Pines is a jack of all trades. He not only showed obvious promise in throwing knives and taking care of animals, but he also rode the unicycle pretty well after twenty minutes of practice- not the best, but definitely not the worst- and he seems to work well with his hands when it comes to rigging- ahem- _fixing_ the carnival games. He shows a lot of promise

“So what were you before you became the ringleader?” Stan asks randomly at dinner- Louis had purposefully gone to eat with Stan in Stan’s trailer so that he wouldn’t feel bombarded by people, but wouldn’t feel alone

“Me? I was a magician,” Louis answers.

“Really?” Stan questions with a disbelieving look on his face.

Louis nods. “Yes. I’ll show you sometime. For now it’s time for me to turn in. In two days will be the first show you work so you’re gonna have to get all the practice that you can get between now and then.”

“Okay,” Stan grunts.

“Goodnight,” Louis says as he exits and he barely catches a grumbled, “g’night” from the boy before he closes the door.

As he walks back towards his trailer he stops when he notices Ruth trying to shoo away Thomas as he tries to help her with a heavy box. He smiles in amusement and walks over to them to see how he can help.

“I said I don’t need your help!” Ruth insists.

Thomas- though straight-faced- also seems to be giving her a disbelieving look with the slight downturn of the corners of his lips. “But Miss Ruth, you’re gonna pull something.”

“I’ve carried heavier, I’ll be fine- Louis, get this brat away from me,” Ruth insists.

Louis waves Thomas away and Thomas rolls his eyes and walks away obediently. Before she can thank him, he takes the box from her and begins to walk toward her trailer- it was pretty heavy, but he can still manage just fine even at his age.

With an outraged cry Ruth tries to take the box.

“Come on, Ruth,” Louis groans. “I know you’re a strong, independent woman, but even you have your limits.”

Ruth huffs and puts her hands on her hips while giving him a fierce glare. “Fine, but don’t expect anything good for your breakfast.”

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head in amused exasperation. “Whatever you say.”

The two of them walk with Louis smiling in amusement over Ruth’s complaining and steps into her trailer and turns to look at her to get an indication of where he should place it.

“Put it near the couch,” she orders. Once that’s done she has him sit at her table and asks, “How did your day with the boy go?”

“It was interesting- he’s got a real knack for picking up on things,” Louis says with a bit of fondness in his features. “Give him twenty minutes on something he’s never done before and he’ll start to show major progress.”

Ruth smiles. “He sounds very promising. I knew he was sharp, but from the looks of it, sounds like I underestimated him.”

Louis nods and moves an annoying strand of hair from his face. “He’s still doesn’t trust me- or anyone for that matter, though he _has_ taken a liking to Ray- but he does have charisma.”

“He’s a boy with a troubled past- much like someone else I know,” she says pointedly with her eyes directed at him.

He doesn’t look away and he says plainly, “Yes, I’m easing him into everything as best I can so that hopefully by our next show he’ll be comfortable enough to work around the people.”

She nods and- observing him with sharp hazel eyes- says, “Yes, much like someone I know.”

He doesn’t say anything at first and stares at the woman with suspicion in his icy blue eyes. “What are you trying to get at?”

“Nothing, just that he reminds me a bit of you- though at the time we were no older than twelve.”

Louis looks away from his childhood friend and crosses his arms. “Yes, I do see a bit of myself in the boy… but hopefully getting to him early on will help him not turn into me.”

“Yes, that would be nice because you’re such an ass,” Ruth replies.

“Hey!” He snaps, glaring at the black woman.

She giggles and then the humor leaves her. “But in all seriousness, be gentle with him- there are some deep scars and opening too many at one time may very well destroy that child.”

Louis nods. “I understand… well, Ruth, I’ll leave you alone for the night. Sweet dreams.”

“And to you, too,” she replies as he leaves her trailer.


	7. The Wandering Child

It’s been a rough two days adjusting to the life of the circus. Stan doesn’t trust anyone as far as he can throw Lunal, but he does have a… liking towards a few. He doesn’t mind being around Ray- he’s a frank man like… someone Stan knew, but he was funny and was impressed every once in a while. Then Louis doesn’t seem all that bad, but there’s always the possibility that everything’s a rouse. Ruth and Rita are sweet to him and feed him- no- _stuff him_ with food every time they see him despite his stomach barely being able to handle it, but they do know when to stop- thankfully. Thomas… he doesn’t know what to think about Thomas- he’s quiet and doesn’t say much and doesn’t express much either. He’ll just have to spend more time with him in order to get a feel for him.

All of it was such a nice change from living on the streets. He finally got the hang of doing “mundane” tasks that Louis took him around to do the first day and today’s the day of the first show.

He’s… nervous. He doesn’t want to disappoint anyone and get kicked out on the streets again- can anyone blame him with the state he was in mere _days_ ago?- so he’s doing as much as he possibly can to make sure that he doesn’t mess anything up and that includes waking up early.

Which is why there’s a shattered alarm clock on the ground near the door at this very moment.

Stan sits up and rubs his face and then his burning eyes to try and wake up- his body wants- no- _demands_ more sleep, but he forces himself to throw the warm covers off and get up to take a shower.

Once he’s taken a shower and is cleanly shaven (though no matter what he does, now he has an ever-present five o’clock shadow) he pulls on a pair of jeans and puts his belt on before pulling on one of his white t-shirts and going to his kitchen to get something to eat (someone stocked up for him while he was working the previous day and he’s grateful to whoever that may be). He decides on toast with some jelly on it- it won’t upset his stomach too much- and eats to his fill (four pieces) and then returns to the bathroom to fix his hair.

A Pines’ man’s hair is one of the best ways to tell how he’s doing in life or in general. If it’s neat and been worked on for a minimum of ten minutes, they’re well off in life- even happy. Messy and unkempt- not even touched- means that they’re at a low point (like with Stan’s developing, unkempt mullet that he sported a few days ago). Even when their hair is neat, if they get riled up, their hair will become puffy and wild the more heightened the emotion (which might be a reason their father always wore his fedora). It’s also a reason why over the past couple of days he’s been working on his hair before he even steps foot out of the door. The others might not know what his hair means, but he does and he wants to show that he’s doing better off now.

 _Looking good,_ Stan thinks as he looks in the mirror and then frowns at the hair in the back. _Gonna haveta cut that soon…_

After several minutes he’s ready to leave and he opens the door just as Louis raises his hand to knock on the door.

“Well, you’re up early,” Louis says with mild surprise- like he half-expected this of Stan for today.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s get to work,” Stan grumbles as he locks the door after himself and stuffs the keys into his pocket.

Louis rolls up his sleeves and leads Stan through the mini trailer park to where they’re doing last minute preparations on the tent and the carnival around it. They do a carnival in the morning all the way to the afternoon and in the evening that’s when the show begins- or at least that’s what Stan’s been told since he’s never witnessed it.

“Nervous?” Louis asks over his shoulder.

“No,” Stan replies, his thumbs immediately stilling from rubbing his forefingers to better hide any nervousness.

“Mhm… y’know I wouldn’t blame you if you were,” Louis replies.

“Well, I’m not,” Stan snaps a bit more harshly than he intended.

 _There’s no way he’s gonna think I’m not nervous now,_ Stan thinks with a small frown on his face.

Louis leads him to the carnival area and tells him what things to move and where. Stanley does exactly as told and so far all they’re doing is setting up for the carnival that’ll take place in a couple of hours. They apparently do everything last minute so that no rowdy teenagers come and destroy everything they’ve set up despite the “guards” (that Stanley hasn’t seen yet).

Stanley walks with a board in his hand meant for the front sign and accidentally runs into a small girl- about the age of five or six with ginger hair, light skin, freckles, and light brown- almost orangeish- eyes- and makes her fall.

Without any thought, Stan puts down the board that he’s carrying and kneels in front of her to help her up. “Hey, kid, are you okay? Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

The girl whimpers and points to her knee. “It hurts.”

“Let me take a look at it,” he says, looking at the skid mark on her knee and it’s bleeding a little bit, but it doesn’t look too bad. He looks back up at her face and se that she’s about to cry. “Hey, don’t worry, it’s okay. C’mon, let’s see if Louis has anything to help with that.”

He helps her stand up and holds her hand with one hand and picks up the beam with the other.

“Okay,” she murmurs, walking with an exaggerated limp- but then again she’s something like five so… he’ll let the dramatics slide.

Stanford walks to the front where the sign’s going to be placed and sees Louis ramming a hammer expertly into the wood.

“Uncle Louis!” the girl cries.

Louis looks up at his name and frowns a little at seeing the girl limping. “What happened?”

“I ran into her,” Stan admits, a little ashamed.

“It hurts,” the girl says, pointing to her knee.

Louis dusts off his hands and kneels in front of the girl to look at her knee. “Hm… I’ve got a few things up my sleeves for that.” With a flurry of movement he pulls from his sleeves some rubbing alcohol and bandaids. He pours little on her knee and she whimpers while he murmurs assurances and then he dabs her knee dry with his handkerchief and puts a bandaid over the small wound. “Aaaand, there ya go. All better?”

The girl smiles and hugs Louis around the neck. “Thanks, Uncle Louis.”

“No problem, Audrey,” he replies while hugging her back.

Audrey turns back to Stan and hugs him around the waist. “Thanks for bringing me to Uncle Louis…”

“Stan,” he says and smiles a little. “No problem kid, just be a little more careful, alright?”

“Alright!” The girl says.

“Now go back to your mother,” Louis says as he stands back up.

“Okay. See you guys later,” Audrey says merrily as she goes back towards the trailer park area.

 _Cute kid,_ Stan thinks as he turns back to his work. _Might be trouble._

As a troublemaker, he can sniff out another from a mile away and she happens to be one of them. Maybe not as bad as he thinks- because right now he’s suspicious that this kid’s being used to soften him up before they do something to him- but definitely mischievous at the very least.

“Help me stand this up,” Louis says, wrapping the ropes around his forearms and hands.

Stan sees that the posts have carefully placed stones at their base and that the ropes are attached to either side of the top of the sign.

“How’s this gonna work? And why did I get this board?” Stanley asks.

Instead of answering, Louis says, “Think about it.”

Stan frowns a little- it’s too early in the morning to think about anything. This is the time to take orders and act like a mindless drone. Despite this being his mindset, he actually puts thought into it. He looks at how Louis’ positioned and how he has the ropes attached to the top wrapped around his arms to pull them, but that’d be hard to do without giving it a boost… which is what Stan’s being used for and the board’s used to push the sign higher until it’s in the proper place. He has to get the momentum going.

“I see,” Stanley mutters as he sets the board beside him and crouches down and puts his fingers underneath the sign. “Ready when you are.”

Louis smiles with an emotion that Stan can’t quite place and tenses. “One… two… three!”

Stan lifts with his knees and gets to a certain point as Louis takes a bit of the weight where he has to take the board from the ground and prop it up. He stands to his full height with one arm pushing up the heavy object and uses the board to push it higher as Louis pulls with all his might. After about a minute the sign’s secure and in place.

“You alright, old man?” Stan asks as Louis pops his back.

“Yeah,” Louis groans as his shoulders relax. “What about you, kid?”

“Fit as a fiddle,” Stan insists.

Louis smirks in amusement. “One task down… eight _million_ to go.”

“Haha, good one,” Stan laughs and then sees the serious look as Louis walks by him and frowns. “Wait… you weren’t serious, right? _Million?!_ ”

* * *

It took a long time, but the carnival was set and Stan was designated to work at some manliness tester with Thomas. He wasn’t the _best_ one to be working at that booth- to be honest. Every time a strong man comes along and gets something other than what they expect, he laughs.

It takes an interesting turn of events then a large man- he’s a good four inches taller than Stan with slicked back dirty blond hair and light brown eyes- shouts at him, “Well, if you think it’s so easy, you try it!”

Stan raises his eyebrows and looks over to Thomas to confirm that this man was- in fact- talking to him. Thomas nods once, minutely, and then his eyes flicker to the larger man that challenged Stan as if to say, “Go on, say something.”

Stan turns to the man and in the heat of the moment says, “Fine, I will!”

Though he couldn’t see it, Thomas rolls his eyes exasperatedly at Stan’s antics.

The larger man steps back and crosses his arms over his chest after gesturing for Stan to take it over and show everyone how it’s done.

Stan is a bit scrawny- definitely not at his peak in physique. And yet- as is the case with most of the less dangerous aspects of his life- he lets his ego get the best of him and he accepts challenges that he probably can’t even win. He’s probably gonna have something pathetic compared to the larger, more healthy man at this physical state, but he doesn’t go back out of things like this despite what some of his past experiences have taught him.

 _Alright, here we go_ , he thinks as he sets up the large hammer on his shoulder. _Just like chopping wood._

When he slams the heavy end on the panel, he hadn’t expected a ding. Perhaps it was all in the technique since his mother’s father kind of forced him and his brother to learn when he taught them how to chop wood or even that he had more strength in him than he originally thought, but either way the bell rung crisp and clear and the men behind him mutter in disbelief.

For a moment he blinks in disbelief himself, but then quickly composes himself and turns to look at the man with a cocky smirk. “And that’s how it’s done.”

The larger man stares in shock and then quickly composes himself and huffs. “Whatever.”

 _I should’ve made a bet,_ Stan thinks after the man’s walked away to invest in whatever kiddy games his daughter and son drag him along to.

“Guess I’m stronger than I thought,” Stan says with a grin as he puts the hammer back and goes over to Thomas.

Thomas has a small smirk of amusement and Stan gets back into his routine of laughing at others when they fail. He’s not willing to try his luck with the rigged game again, so he keeps his laughter quiet and his mocking to a minimum.

“Hey, Stan,” Thomas says, interrupting any thoughts Stan had going through his mind.

“Hm?”

“Go get us some food,” he orders simply.

Normally Stan would have a problem following orders from someone about his age, but he has to remind himself that he’s new here and that this guy’s his senior when it comes to working in the cirque so he has to do what he’s told.

“Alright, whaddoyouwant?” Stan asks.

“I don’t care,” Thomas shrugs.

Stan walks back towards the trailer park area since he doesn’t know his way around _still_. After roaming around for far too long, he runs into Audrey again.

“Hey, kid,” Stan says as he looks around for anyplace with food.

“What’re you doing?” Audrey asks.

Stan looks at her for a moment before answering, “Looking for food.”

“You could’ve asked someone at one of the booths,” Audrey says.

“Should’ah, would’ah, could’ah,” he states quickly. “Do _you_ know where I can get food, kid?”

“Of course,” she says and takes his hand and leads her towards the hot dog stand where a young woman- and Stan’s really hesitant to guess ages now since he’s been wrong with Rita and Ruth- in her late twenties with short, curly dirty blond hair and bright green eyes and pale skin covered in freckles. “Hey, Alissa! Could you get a few hot dogs for Stan?”

The contortionist looks up at Stan and says, “Sure.”

“For me and Thomas,” Stan adds quickly.

“Oh, so he sent you on a food run, huh?” Alissa asks while giving him four hot dogs.

“Yeah,” he replies while taking them. “Thanks.”

“No problem. And, by the way, the station you were at with Thomas is that way,” she says, pointing to his right.

“Thanks,” he grumbles and starts walking before he can make a fool of himself. Audrey walks beside him and he’s fine with it at first, but then he stops and looks down at her. “Aren’t you supposed to be with your mother or something?”

“I just wanna make sure you don’t go the wrong way,” she replies.

He blushes a bit bashfully and murmurs, “Thanks.”

“No problem! You’re new so of course you’d get lost all of the time.”

 _Why would Thomas send me when he knew I’d get lost?_ Stan wonders as he half-follows the little girl.

“Hi, Thomas,” Audrey says with a grin.

“Sup,” Thomas says with a wave. “Thanks for bringing him back.”

“No problem,” Audrey says with a grin.

“Now go back to your mother.”

She pouts. “Why do all of you always send me back to mom? Maybe I wanna help with your section.”

Instead of answering, Thomas waves her off and she huffs and turns to go back to her mother.

“Here,” Stan says, holding out three of the hot dogs.

“Thanks,” Thomas replies. “Have fun talking to people or where you too stubborn to ask for help?”

Stan grumbles something incoherent under his breath before he takes a bite of his hot dog. He prefers not to admit that he ended up completely lost for fifteen minutes because he was too stubborn to ask for directions from strangers he’s never interacted with.

Thomas chuckles. “I guess that answers my question.”

“Hey, who’s Audrey’s mother anyway?” Stan asks suddenly out of curiosity.

“Mary’s. She’s Miss Rita’s daughter,” Thomas answers and then finishes off his first hot dog.

“Who’s Miss Rita’s husband?” Stan suddenly wonders.

“Frank. He died about three years ago,” Thomas says, his eyes darkening a shade and his lips downturning slightly in sadness. “He was a great man.”

Stan sobers up and looks at the last two bites of hot dog, “I’m sorry.”

Thomas doesn’t say anything and- instead- starts on his second hot dog. Obviously this is something that Thomas doesn’t like talking about which seems to make Frank a taboo subject- or at least one that will depress anyone in this Cirque in two seconds flat. He’ll avoid that topic for the time being (or as long as possible until it becomes necessary) since he doesn’t know anyone well enough to start questioning them about personal matters.

Stanley- after a while- ends up needing to go to the restroom and he asks Thomas for directions, but he’s pretty vague so he ends up lost _again_. He doesn’t understand why they don’t make a map and just _give it_ to him. That’d make everything easier.

“Hi, are you lost again?” Audrey asks.

Stan looks down at the girl and puts his hands on his hips. “Aren’t you supposed to be with your mother?”

She pouts- it’s admittedly adorable- and retorts, “No!”

“Are ya sure?”

“And to think I was gonna help you find the bathroom,” she says and then turns to walk away.

He lunges forward and grabs her shoulder. “Wait! I’m sorry- it’s just that everyone keeps tellin’ ya t’ go back t’ your mom so I kinda… assumed that that’s where you’re supposed t’ be.”

Audrey rubs her chin and observes him for several seconds before saying, “I suppose I can accept your apology.. under one condition.”

“What’s the condition?” Stan asks warily- even deals with kids haven’t gone well in the past for him.

“You carry me on your shoulders!”

The excited grin makes him weak so he sighs. “Alright kid. C’mere.”

Audrey blinks in surprise- like she hadn’t expected him to agree- but then quickly rushes over.

He picks her up by her armpits and sets her on his shoulders and then grabs her legs so that she doesn’t fall accidentally.

“That way,” she says while pointing forward.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies and walks in the general direction. She leads him straight to the bathroom as promised and he sets her on the ground. “Aaaand _that’s_ the end of the ride. Thank you and please come again.”

Audrey giggles. “You’re funny.”

“Er… I… try?”

“I’ll wait to bring you back to Thomas,” she replies and goes to talk with one of the vendors.

Stan doesn’t know how to react and- instead- goes into the bathroom to take care of business. When he exits, he jumps a little to find Audrey standing _right there_ at the door.

“Erm… hi,” he mutters with a small wave.

“Hi! Ready to go back to Thomas?

“I-”

“Audrey Madison, what I have I told you about running off during the fair?”

Stan looks up at a woman- in her late twenties?- with ginger hair, pale skin, and bright blue eyes wearing a blue blouse and a black skirt that seems like it’ll flare with each step forward (it’d be great for dancing).

Audrey immediately straightens up and looks up at her mother. “I’m sorry, I was helping the new guy find his way around.”

 _Thanks for putting me into this,_ Stan thinks sarcastically. “Um, she’s right. I actually keep running into her and she keeps helping me find my way. I’m sorry if I’m the reason that she keeps wandering off.”

The woman observes him and then glances at her daughter as if to look for an explanation. “Well… my daughter’s what I like to call a… wandering child. It’s not your fault- she’s always had a talent for finding lost things and putting them back in their place… Oh, I’m Mary. Nice to meet you, Stan.”

He’s a bit thrown off about her knowing his name, but them reminds himself that information like that tends to spread like wildfire after someone new shows up. “Um, nice t’ meet you, too.”

“Alright, Audrey, I want you to take him back to his station and then come back immediately. Ten minutes- no more than that.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Audrey says and then takes Stan’s hand and tugs him back into the direction of his station with Thomas. “C’mon!”

“Okay,” he mutters and follows the child. Something like seven minutes later, the two of them end up back at his station and he ends up smiling down at the kid. “Thanks, kid. You’ve been a _big_ help today.”

“It’s what I do!” She says with a proud smile. “I’ll see you at the show. Bye!”

“See ya,” Stan says with a wave.

_Interesting kid._


	8. First Show: Part 1

After a long morning turns into an afternoon, Stanley has to help clean up and put away any valuables. The entire time, his heisting hands _itch_ to take some of the gold that he manages to spot around people’s necks or in women’s ears or on their wrists. He pays special attention to wrist watches- they’ve always held some sort of appeal to him and his favorite happens to be his father’s. It takes a lot to keep from snatching all the things that he _wants_ to snatch, but he refrains and keeps doing his job in relocating items (mostly prizes that people would get if they _did_ manage to win one of the carnival games). He wants to make an honest living here- or at least as honest as he can stand to be- and that means not taking anything from the people that are letting him stay here.

He doesn’t see much of Louis except moments when he’s running around to do something- and God only knows what he’s running around to do (especially once when Stanley saw Louis dragging a child on his foot, holding a baby in one arm and a toddler by the ankle in his other hand). Thomas insists that Louis is one of those people that runs around and makes sure that everyone’s alright and tries to take over things to “get the load off of others” all the time, but Stan’s not completely sure about that since he’s only been here for a few days. He’s sure he’ll see if that’s true if he sticks around long enough.

After everything’s packed up and secured, he feels a hand on his shoulder and it takes everything in him not to bolt immediately. He turns and finds Ray standing there with his light brown eyes alight with curiosity.

“Looked like you was gon’ bolt fo’ a secun’ dere,” Ray notes. “Sorry ‘bout dat.”

Stanley moves away from Ray so that his hand isn’t on his shoulder anymore and says, “You surprised me is all- you’re fine… whaddoyawant?”

“Ah jus’ came down ta tell ya tha’ Ol’ Louis wants you ta work wit’ me an’ da animals since dey like you.”

“Oh, okay… in the show?” Stanley asks, suddenly worried- what if someone he knows is in the audience? Someone that he owes money to? Or the cops? Or someone that has a grudge against him?

“Mo’ o’ less. You da one dat brings da animals out fo’ me an’ den take ‘em back after ah’m done wit’ ‘em.”

Stanley nods. “Okay… yeah, I can do that…”

“Atta boy! Le’s go practice a bit b’fo’ da show begins. ”

“Okay,” Stan replies while walking after the animal trainer.

Ray leads him without a problem back to the tent where the animals are kept that’s placed near the big tent- he’s one of the middle-end acts if Stanley remembers correctly.

Stanley follows, trying his best to memorize the path and trying to mentally find his way back to his trailer from where he was. He’s a bit satisfied that he can- after three days- find his way home from one of the major “highways” of the trailer part of this place. He even seems to know where he’s going in the major parts of the carnival. He has to be quick to memorize directions considering what he used to do before coming here.

As soon as they enter the tent holding the animals, Stanley’s drawn to the puppies- or to be more specific- his puppy, Shadow. The puppies are very excited to see him and jumps at him excitedly and he indulges in them for a while.

“Awlright, ‘nough o’ dat,” Ray says after giving Stan a minute to play with his puppy and taps his thigh twice to get Shadow to come to him to put him on a leash. “You gon’ be awlright t’ take Lily an’ dem?”

Stan shifts a little at the thought of taking the tigress and the other questionable animals.“Uh… sure.”

Lily perks when Stan gets closer and stands up to greet him with her head pressed against the bars so that she can be pet. He smiles and reaches out slowly before petting her head. She favors him, it seems- not that he’s gonna argue over it. He’s grateful that there ferocious beast doesn’t want to kill him.

“Hey, girl. Y’ready t’ perform?”

She huffs quietly as if it’s a confirmation and he smiles at her.

“We ‘bout t’ go on. You remember da odah dey come out in?” Ray asks.

“After Carlton comes the pups and then Lucy and then Lily and Lunal,” Stan replies- it’d become a litany in all of the total of ten hours.

“Good boy! Your memory’s predday good,” Ray praises with a smile with an emotion that Stan can’t quite place, but he’s been seeing it more often lately (he should probably learn what emotion it is).

“Thanks,” the young man replies with a sheepish smile.

“And keep cam, you gon’ do awlright,” Ray assures with a pat on his shoulder. “Le’s go over how you bring out Lucy.”

They spend a good half hour going over exactly what Stanley has to do to lead the animals out and his cues to bring them out. Ray seems to be very impressed with his memorization skills because he picks up on everything rather quickly- within the first ten minutes- but only keeps going at Stan’s request.

“Are you sure? Maybe we should go over the cues one more time? A-and how I lead Lunal out, and-” Stan says when Ray says they’re done.

Ray puts a hand on the boy’s shoulder and smiles. “You gon’ do fine, boy. Hav’ some confidence!”

Stan doesn’t want to tell the man he has a habit of ruining everything (his mind immediately thinks of his brother’s project).

“Yeah… yeah, I’ve got this,” Stan says, though his stomach churns nervously.

“ _Ladies and gentleman, may introduce to you our amazing animal trainer, Ray Jackson and his wild friend, Carlton!_ ”

“You gon’ do fahne, boy,” Ray assures as he walks out with his horse and then gets on it to ride on him doing a handstand.

Stan takes a few deep breaths and tries to cam himself- no need to have an anxiety attack here. He can do this- he just went over it close to a million times before Ray had to leave.

 _C’mon, Stan, you can do this,_ he thinks while checks the walls so the puppies (and other animals) will run out onto stage and not everywhere else.

Stan peeks out after checking the walls and sees that Ray’s finishing up. Immediately, Stan- despite how he hates being in front of so many people and taking a chance of the wrong people seeing up- runs out when Ray glances in his direction at the end.

Stan takes the horse’s reigns and mounts the saddle and has Carlton trot out of the performance tent. _Looks like riding horses in Montana really paid off after all._

He ties the horse up and then jogs to the puppy cage and undoes the latch. They start toward him to be pet and he chuckles a little and kneels down and pets each of them- especially Shadow. A few moments later and they’re all running toward the stage- probably because of the dog whistle that Ray has to call them.

Now that the pups are gone, he can put Carlton in his stall. Once he’s sure the horse is taken care of and the stall door is securely fastened, he tries his best to remember what the next act was, but it’s not sticking at the moment.

 _Elephant, right!_ Stan thinks when he looks at the largest animal in the tent.

He watches the second hand tick by on his watch until it hits four minutes and then he blows his whistle from the dog pen. Several seconds later and the pack of pups are running towards him and he exits while trying not to step on any pup underfoot and closes the gate.

“You guys did great,” he says and pets the ones that try toward him. He hadn’t watched, but he remembers their act from last time.

“ _I think it’s time we addressed the elephant in the room!_ ” Louis says.

Stan curses under his bed and runs forward and begins coaxing Lucy out with some hay in his hand. She takes it from him and moves as if to turn back, but Stanley takes her trunk like Ray taught him and tugs her towards the stage and she follows him, holding his arm as if he’s a toddler and soon she’s leading him toward Ray.

“Help,” Stan begs in a quiet, strained voice when they get to the animal trainer.

“Don’ worry, boy, ah’ve gotchu.”

As soon as Stan’s free, he walks as quickly as he felt was appropriate back to the animal tent and breathes deeply.

 _Next act, what’s the next act? Lunal or Lily?_ He thinks desperately.

He decides that it’s Lily- he thinks he remembers Lunal coming out after her so they could work together for some tricks.

He really doesn’t want to interact with the carnivores even if they were nice to him. Can anyone blame him for having the fear of being eaten or attacked? Especially after-

“ _Give a hand for Lucy!_ ”

Stan runs out and slows down when getting near Lucy and leads her back to her place. He’s very glad that she doesn’t hate him because he also hates the idea of being crushed to death.

“Alright, Lily,” Stan says with a shaky voice as he goes near her cage. “Time for you to go on… I gotta put the collar on you and take you out, okay?”

Thankfully she’s very calm and comes out of the cage and rubs her head against his shoulder. He puts the collar on with shaking hands- he’s never been unsupervised with her before and he’s… terrified.

 _Calm down… it’s gonna go by fast, she’s not hurt ya,_ Stan tries to reassure himself as he leads her out of the animal tent and out toward the performance tent. His is face pale from fear and he doesn’t know how he hasn’t either bolted or frozen up in fear is beyond him.

Ray takes the leash from Stan and shakes his hand firmly and it stops him from walking away and Stan’s confused at first until he sees Ray moving to take off the collar and leash.

“It’s awlright, boy, jus’ bring out Lunal in four minut’s an’ ah’ll be wit’ ya ta take ‘em back,” Ray says quickly and quietly while squeezing his hand assuringly when he hands him the leash.

Stan nods and then rushes back to the animal tent. He glances at his watch- three minute and fourteen seconds until he has to go back out there with the lion- the one that seems to like him least aside from Carlton actually (how the horse let him ride him, Stan will never know). That gives him enough time to at least try and clam himself down so that he can get Lunal without him reacting to his fear scent. He can’t take chances like that.

Stanley stands in front of Lunal’s cage and watches him cautiously as he lounges about. How can he possibly kill the fear inside of him with a threat like this in front of him after-

 _One minute,_ Stanley thinks as he looks at his watch. _Please, if you’re up there… please don’t let this thing kill me._

His hands shake when it reaches the thirty second mark when he reaches forward to let the beast smell him and he feels himself trembling.

Lunal sniffs at Stan’s hand and yawns in disinterest, even when the young man unlocks the cage.

“C’mere, boy, we’ve gotta getcha out t’ the show.”

 _I must be losing my mind if I’m talking to him like he can understand me,_ he thinks as he rubs his thumbs along the collar in his hand while the lion lazily moves forward with golden-brown eyes on him.

Stan hesitantly puts the collar around his neck and then begins to lead him out, but he doesn’t keep his back to the animal- he knows better. He undoes the collar when he gets out on stage and nearly jumps out of his skin when Lily butts her head against his arm.

Ray watches him carefully and Stan is quick to disappear once he realizes that. Stanley does well under supervision- with someone by his side to make sure the animals behaved- but unsupervised he feels like a wreck. He may lose his composure at any second because he can’t get ahold of his fear of these animals. He hasn’t had… the _best_ experiences with animals in the past and- believe it or not- he’s dealt with wild animals in the past.

He notices his hands are shaking violently and he has to find a way to calm down before he goes back out there. He looks at the puppies and nods to himself- puppies always make things better.

He hops into the puppy pen and they come to him excitedly as if they hadn’t seen him in forever. He smiles and sits down among them while trying to keep them from licking his face. He occasionally glances down at his watch, but overall, he mostly gives his attention to the puppies and this calms him down immensely. He almost can’t hear his heart pounding in his ears anymore and that’s _definitely_ a good thing.

He glances at his watch once more and then gets out of the puppy pen despite multiple whines of protest that nearly “talk” him into getting back in and ignoring everything around him.

He grabs both leashes off of the wall and rushes out to the stage with his eyes locking on the carnivores.

He goes over to Ray and hands over one leash. “Here ya go.”

“Thanks,” Ray says. “Go take Lily.”

Stan nods and goes to the tigress and puts the collar on. He’s not a wreck like before because Ray is there with him- and he’s never gonna admit how terrified he was no matter how shaken he might’ve looked before.

Once in the animal tent, he leads Lily back to her cage and locks it up. “WhaddoI do now?”

The Cajun rubs his chin. “Why don’ ya go ta Ruth an’ help her? Ah’ve got de animals covered.”

“Alright, but where is she?” Stan asks with a raised eyebrow.

“‘round da conuh’ out dat dere exit, y’ cayn’ miss ‘er,” Ray says while pointing to the only other exit.

Stan nods and walks out then groans when his stomach churns. _I’ve got a bad feeling…_


	9. First Show: Part 2

Stan couldn’t shake the bad feeling off no matter how hard he tried. Everything was going smoothly, but at the same time he kept making minor mistakes, but thankfully Ruth caught him each time and would correct him so he wouldn’t mess up again.

“Are you alright?” Ruth asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Stanley grunts as he lowers himself to help Thomas with the table for her act.

He won’t admit to feeling terrible, but at the same time he doesn’t want to feel like this anymore either.

Ruth nods and observes him carefully.

Stanley picks up the table from one end as Thomas does from another and he curses and drops his end when he feels a cut on his forearm from a rusty nail. Unfortunately the table breaks apart and he stands there looking at the broken table in dismay.

_You screw up._

“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to drop it,” Stan stutters as Ruth moves to stand in front of him.

“I know, I know, but that doesn’t matter, let me see your hand,” Ruth says as she takes it and turns it over to examine it.

There’s a long, jagged line of crimson on the underside of his forearm that goes from the back of his elbow to his palm and Ruth grimaces upon seeing it. The blood begins to drip from his arm and a small pool begins to form in his palm

“I’m sorry,” Stan murmurs while trying to bring his arm back to himself so she won’t have to see it, but she keeps a firm hold on his forearm and wraps the scarf that was around her waist around his arm despite his protests on getting something so nice dirty over nothing.

“Stop apologizing, it was an accident,” Ruth orders and then turns to Thomas. “Take him to see Mary to get this taken care of properly.”

Thomas nods and then grabs Stan’s sleeve and begins to walk away.

“But what about the table?” Stan insists- he ruined her performance by getting rid of one of the biggest parts of it.

Ruth put her hands on her hips and her hazel eyes have a scolding look to them that makes him feel like a child under his mother’s gaze again. “Child, we can replace this- we have backups. We can’t replace you. Now go get your arm looked at.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Stan mutters and allows himself to be led away by Thomas.

He doesn’t say anything as he’s half-dragged and thinks about the table- he broke it because he was being clumsy. He screwed up _again._ Like he always does. Why can’t he seem to do anything right?

Thomas smacks his forehead and frowns at him, eyebrows closer together and lips downturned in what Stan assume to be frustration- something he’s more than familiar with even in it’s subtlest forms.

“What?”

“Stop it,” he says.

“Stop what?” Stan demands defensively.

“Beating yourself up,” Thomas replies.

Stan grimaces- is he _that_ easy to read? That strangers can tell when he’s putting himself down?

Thomas doesn’t say anything else and wordlessly grabs Stan by the ear tugs him along.

“Lemmgolemmegolemmegolemmego,” Stan begs as he’s dragged and his mind immediately skitters back to a time when he was young and got into trouble with his grandmother.

Thomas doesn’t say anything or give into Stan’s pleas.

Soon those pleas die on his lips and he accepts his fate.

The ginger woman looks up and sees them and then notices the scarf wrapped around Stan’s forearm. “What happened?!”

Stan is reluctant to say anything, but he finally manages to stutter out while looking at the ground, “I-I dropped the table…”

“Be more careful next time,” Mary scolds while getting the first aid kit.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Stan insists- they have to know he didn’t mean it. He can’t let them think he did it on purpose. “I-I’ll get you-”

“I’m not talking about the table- dummy. We have more,” Mary says with a scolding tone. “ _You_ need to be more careful about _you_. We don’t want you getting hurt, now do we?”

“N-no, ma’am,” he mutters while watching her work on cleaning and wrapping his arm.

She sighs quietly and makes him look at her. “Hey… don’t feel bad about the table. It’s something that can be replaced. _You_ can’t be.”

He stares at her in awe for a long time. When was the last time somebody cared enough to _actually_ scold him for not taking better care of himself? It must’ve been his brother- no… it was a friend- James. He was the last person. He’s sure of it.

She works silently and when she’s tied off the bandage she informs it to have it changed in the morning and he nods in understanding.

Thomas inspects the bandaging and earns himself a glare from Mary.

“It’s done right,” she assures.

Thomas nods and then lets go of Stan’s arm. “Come on.”

Stan doesn’t know what to make of Thomas- he’s pretty weird. He knows how to deal with quiet people and read them given enough time, but it always sets him on edge. He wants to hear talking and he wants to get to know a person- more like get a good reading on them- so he knows how to manipulate them if he needs to. People who don’t talk a lot don’t give him that opportunity.

But still, he follows the other man nonetheless.

 _Why were they so worried about one little cut?_ He wonders. He hasn’t had someone to worry about _him_ in a long time. _It’s not like I haven’t had worse._

He just doesn’t understand.

Why would they do something for him- give him a place to call his own and feed him and take care of him- and not want anything from him except a little manual labor? It’s not how the world works. The world is dark and cold and cruel- every man for themselves and even your closest friend was one to be sacrificed to save your own skin.

They _want_ something… he just doesn’t know what it is yet. All he can hope is that it’s nothing _too_ bad.

Stan runs into Thomas when he suddenly stops and then glares down at him irritably while his mind aches and spins. “Mind givin’ a guy a little warnin’ before ya stop?”

Thomas says nothing and observes Stanley’s face for a long while before he nods to himself and drags Stan back in the direction of the trailers. Stan’s heart races as every possible scenario runs through his mind.

 _He’s gonna kill me- no witnesses,_ Stan thinks and digs his heels into the dirt.

“Stan,” Thomas huffs in annoyance.

“I can work a bit more,” Stan assures, yanking his arm from the other man’s grasp. “I _want_ to work.”

Thomas sighs quietly as if in disappointment at Stan’s lack of cooperation. “Fine… light work.”

Stan nods and then hurries toward the circus tent to work- he wants to do anything to redeem himself and be a help instead of a hinderance.

Any time he lifts a box, Thomas takes it from him if he shows any kind of strain much to Stan’s annoyance. Stan keeps his remarks to himself- he hasn’t been there long enough to complain and snap at someone. He has to behave himself so they won’t have to force him to sit out.

“Will you stop? I know what I can and can’t handle,” Stan snaps at Thomas when he takes a relatively light box.

Thomas gives him that blank look that he always gives, though this time his lips are slightly more downturned and his eyebrows briefly twitch upward in the slightest. _Really? I’m only trying to help._

“I don’t need your help,” Stan insists, earning a blink from Thomas- it was like he was surprised Stan could read his face so easily. “I’ve met and dealt with people who have better poker faces then you… now will you let me do some work or not?”

Thomas takes a moment to contemplate before he gives the slightest nod and walks with the box in his hand away from Stan.

Stan finally relaxes and makes his way toward another box that’s a little heavy, but still pretty light, but his vision gets a bit blurry and he has to put the box down. He shakes his head to clear it and his head swims.

 _Shit,_ he thinks, trying to reach out and grab something to break his fall.

“ _Stan!_ ” Thomas shouts, rushing forward just as Stan blacks out.


	10. In the Trailer

Stan opens his eyes with a groan and rubs his forehead as it throbs painfully. _What happened?_

He had no idea where he was or what he’d done to cause this massive headache that felt like he’d drunk until he passed out.

It took a while for him to gain the courage to open his eyes and take a chance of worsening his headache by being blinded by light. Once he did he looked up at the ceiling of… of his room in the trailer.

Suddenly it hits him. Everything comes back to him. Helping Raywith the animals, cutting himself on the table he dropped, moving things, getting annoyed with Thomas, and then darkness.

He immediately gets up and started to get ready to get back to work, but before he can so much as take a step two pairs of hands grab him and drag him back to the bed.

Panic courses through him and he fights against them. “Lemme go!”

A pair of hands disappear from his legs and overly heated hands grab his face and force him to look into cerulean eyes. It takes several moments, but then he can hear the calm voice of Louis and this soothes him to the point he’s barely struggling anymore.

“It’s okay, you’re safe,” Louis says. “Everything’s alright. Just relax.”

It takes a while, but Stan finally relaxes by taking several deep breaths and leaning back so that the headboard supports him as Thomas’ arms unwind from around his shoulders.

The other young man looks about ready to hold him down again if necessary.

Stan rubs his forehead and asks, “What happened?”

“You overworked yourself,” Rita informs.

“Due to your… malnourished state, it makes sense. We shouldn’t have put so much on you,” Louis sighs.

Stan is quick to assure, “I asked for the work.”

“Yes, but we should’ve known better,” Rita says.

Stan doesn’t say anything else and runs a hand over his face. _My fault…_

“Stop that,” Thomas says firmly.

Stan scoffs, “I messed up. I-”

“You had no control over that. All you need to do is rest and eat,” Louis interrupts with a stern look on his face.

What was once familiar is now foreign to him. He doesn’t understand why they’re so insistent on such things- caring about him. He’s given them no reason to care for him. He can manage just fine on his own… decently.

“And don’t bother trying to argue,” Rita says while putting her hands on her hips.

Stan shuts his mouth and looks away from the woman.

“Don’t worry us like that ever again,” she says while using her finger to lift his chin so she can look into her eyes and see the _sincerity_ in them.

When was the last tie he saw something like that? Such… motherly love?

That Gramma Dawn woman from Oklahoma, that’s when.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says with a nod.

She relaxes and smiles. “Thank you.”

Stan shifts uncomfortably and glances up at Louis, silently begging to be left alone.

“Alright, you two go. I’ll make sure he eats,” Louis says.

 _Not what I meant,_ Stan thinks with a frown.

When the others are gone, Louis gets up and grabs the plate of food from the nightstand and gives it to him.

“Thanks,” Stan grunts and begins eating.

He stops when he’s eaten about one-forth of it because he can’t stomach anymore.

“One more bite,” Louis encourages.

“If I take another bite, I’ll throw up.”

Louis sighs and sits back in the chair. “Alright.

 _Isn’t that the chair form the kitchen?_ Stan thinks offhandedly.

Louis gets up with a grunt and takes the plate in his hands. “I’ll put this in your fridge. You can have some later.”

“Thanks,” Stan says.

Once the older man is out of the room he gets up and makes his way to the bathroom where he looks in the mirror.

He runs a hand through his hair and can suddenly see why everyone was worried.

His skin is a few shades paler than it’s ever been in his life, he’s much thinner than someone his height should be, and he has prominent dark circles under his eyes despite all of the sleep he’s been getting.

 _If your brother looked like this, you’d make him take better care of himself,_ his mother’s voice tells him.

He laughs quietly to himself. _Alright, Ma…_

Louis is standing by the door when he comes out and has worry written all over his face.

“I’ll be fine,” Stan assures. “I’m just gonna take it easy here.”

He takes several seconds observing the younger man before he nods in satisfaction. “Alright… goodnight.”

“G’night,” he says and locks the door after his company’s left.

He walks into his room, lies on his back and stares up at the ceiling.

Maybe he’s paranoid? Maybe no one in this circus is out to get him? No one would do all of this for someone they don’t care about.

Unless it’s a trap. That possibility still lingers in his mind. They could be buying time. They could be getting him fit to sell him off as a slave. Only time would tell.

And being that he’s in no rush to go anywhere, he’s got plenty of time.

  
Plenty of time.”

After all, none of his family- save for his mother- bothered to contact him…. oh, and Gramma Johnson the one time, but now she goes through her daughter to talk to her grandson. Lying to his grandmother was worse than lying to his mother. Lying to the women in his life made his stomach churn in general.

Suddenly he realizes that it’s been a full three months since he’s last contacted his mother.

He sits up and stares wide eyed at the wall. _Oh, shit!_

He runs his hands through his hair to clam down.

“You’ll call her when you can… call her when you can,” Stan reminds himself and lies back down.

No matter when he calls at this point, he’s gonna get cursed out.


	11. Through the Eyes of a Master: All Women are Terrifying

_More paperwork… lovely,_ Louis thinks sarcastically.

He’s currently going over the proper paperwork to establish their next destination so that they may _legally_ set up there for a couple of weeks. It’s a troublesome task at best that he would rather not do, but since he’s the ringleader, he’s got to take responsibility for all of this.

 _I wish you were still here to do all this, old man,_ he thinks.

“Louis, you still ain’t sent off that paperwork?” Ruth asks as she walks into the office trailer.

“No, Ruth,” he grumbles. “What’re you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be checking on Cathy? She’s about to burst.”

“Cathy will be fine for a few most hours at least. I’m asking if I can take Stan for a little while.”

“You are not forcing that boy to see a baby being born. He can barely keep anything down as it is- seeing that would set him back a week,” Louis says.

Speaking of the boy he’s been doing rather well lately. He has a bit of anxiety handling the carnivores on his own, but he’s fairly good. He seems to have made fast friends with Audrey and- much to most everyone’s surprise- can see Thomas’ tells fairly well.

The boy’s been through a lot to be able to look at the subtle changes on Thomas’ face and read him so easily after only a day of spending time with him. And he’s only improved over the past couple of weeks.

As for his weight he finally seems to be gaining a few pounds- much to everyone’s relief. The Mama Rs (Ruth and Rita) have been making him food specifically to get his weight up. Unfortunately the boy can’t stomach it all so his fridge is now full of food that he’s forced to share with anyone that’s willing before it goes bad.

Ruth’s hands go to her hips and Louis sits back in his chair to prepare for what’s next.

“I ain’t gonna make him help me with the delivery. I want to get ‘im used to everyone here. He’s only met a handfullah people and we need him to know everyone so that he feels safer. Don’t need him thinkin’ someone’s tryinna break in when it’s someone that works here,” Ruth says.

“You’re right… as always.”

She nods. “That’s right. I’ll be sure to give ‘im to you ‘round… four. You’ll have mailed those papers off by then… if you know what’s good for you.”

“I will, I will,” Louis assures, paling as his childhood friend narrows her eyes at him.

“Good. See you later, Lou.”

“See ya,” he says while turning back to his paperwork.

If he didn’t get this done by four, he was in for it. It could be anything from something as mildly annoying as a wet willy to something as vengeful as giving him food poisoning. After all… she does cook his food.

He spent the entire time catching up on his paperwork so that Ruth won’t have to do anything.

At three-fourteen he finally finishes and goes to the mailman that Ruth called.

_Alright, now to-_

He feels someone fall onto his back and falls onto his face.

“Sorry,” Stan stutters and helps the older man up.

“It’s alright. What was that about?”

“Miss Ruth shoved me out of the tent when Miss Cathy went into labor,” Stan explains.

“Yes, that sounds like her,” Louis grumbles and then notices Stan shifting and his lips twitching. “What do you want to ask?”

“Do you have a phone I can use?”

“Yes… may I ask why?”

Stan picks at the hem of his shirt. “I need to call my mom.”

“How long has it been since you called your mother?” Louis asks.

In the three weeks he’s been here, Louis doesn’t recall this young man ever making a phone call- unless he did it on a pay phone while helping the ladies shop.

Stan doesn’t look up at him and mutters under his breath. “Hoher thee huuhs.”

“I’m sorry I did’t catch that. Speak up.”

“Over three months,” Stan sighs.

“Boy, if I waited over three days to call my momma, I wouldah got my tail whooped,” Louis says. “Come on, let’s find a landline. I’ll pay.”

“Thanks,” Stan grumbles and follows after the older man.

Once they’re in town Louis gives Stan the money and stands off to the side so that he can walk in private… relatively.

Stan seems very nervous as he waits for his mother to pick up as he chews on his fingernail.

After a good forty seconds he perks up and nervously says, “Hey, Ma.”

He flinches and from where Louis stands he can hear an angry woman’s voice though he can’t make out any words.

After several moments the noise dies down and Stan presses the phone back to his ear, “Sorry, Ma… but you’ll be glad to know I found someplace to settle down… kinda… I’m fine… I still travel- which is how I like it… well, I’m in the entertainment business now… well, yeah, but this is different… what? His name’s Louis… Louis Lawrence… yes, they’re treating me just fine… M-M-Ma!… no, I-…. no, it’s not that, I just-… No… Why do you think I’m lying?… yes ma’am… yes… yes ma’am… okay… okay… yeah… uh-huh… fine. Okay, I promise… wait, what? I didn’t catch that… yes… yes, ma’am… okay… okay, here he is.”

Stan holds the phone out to Louis. “It’s for you.”

Louis blinks in surprise and then goes over and picks up the phone, but presses it to his chest. “What’s her name?”

“Just call ‘er Mrs. Pines and she’ll soften up,” Stan grunts and crosses his arms in an almost childish manner.

Louis nods and takes a breath before putting the one to his ear. “Hello, Mrs. Pines?”

“Hello, yes this is she, but- please- call me Cassandra,” a pleasant voice asks with a thick Jersey accent.

Something tells him that voice was merely the voice she uses when trying not to make a mad impression. That one that most mothers have that makes their children stare at them like they’re crazy.

“I’d prefer to wait until I’ve had a few more conversations with you to call you that, Mrs. Pines,” Louis replies.

“You must be Mr. Lawrence, my boy’s employer?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“How’s he been? I mean really,” she asks and sounds unconvinced of her son’s telling the truth.

“He’s been doing well, Mrs. Pines,” Louis assures.

“He’s got steady work, a stable home, enough food, and all that right?”

“Yes, ma’am. I don’t let anyone go without,” Louis says.

The first one to suffer from a shortage would be himself.

“So you’ve been taking good care of my baby, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You ain’t fed ‘im any fish have you?”

“No, ma’am. He informed us that on his first day.”

A breath of relief. “Could I talk to you some other time when Stan ain’t tryin’ t’ eavesdrop?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Y’good at memorizin’ numbers?”

“Yes, ma’am, very good.”

After she gives him a number and a day to call her he figures he’ll hang up, but her voice stops him.

“And Mr. Lawrence… if anything happens to my baby I will know and I will hold you responsible… and I will make sure you pay. Do you understand?”

That voice meant business and there was a certain electricity that went through his body that told him she meant business and that she very well could end him without even laying eyes on him.

“Yes, ma’am, I understand.”

“Good. Thank you for looking out for him,” she says with that pleasant tone again. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye. Uh- would you like to say goodbye to your son?”

“No, he’ll call me very soon,” she says.

“Alright…” And then he hangs up. Louis walks over to Stan and says, “Let’s go home.”

Stan seems bewildered for a moment before he nods and walks with him. “Scary ain’t she?”

“You’ll find that all women are terrifying,” Louis assures.

After pondering for a moment Stan nods, “I don’t doubt it.”


	12. Tightrope

“C’mon, please?” Audrey begs while pouting up at him.

“We’d really like for you to come,” Mary says. “It’ll be fun.”

Stanley looks between the two of them. In the two months that he’s been staying at the cirque, he hasn’t really done much interacting with people aside from the necessary interactions preparing for the carnival and the show and moving from city to city. The others have been trying to get him to do things with them- bonding and getting his trust- and he’s shown nothing but reluctance and thus there was no reason to spend an immense amount of time with them.

Audrey blinks up at him pleadingly and he groans, rubbing his eyes.

“I guess I can hang out for a little while,” Stan grumbles.

“And what’ve you gotta do that’s so important?” Mary asks with her hands on her hips.

 _Nowadays not much,_ he mentally admits.

He’s used to relying on illegal activity to keep himself from dying and now that he has nothing to do other than the daily work… he honestly doesn’t know what to do with himself anymore.

“None’ah your business, doll,” he replies.

Audrey was the first one to be given a pet name “sweetie” is the main one though occasionally he calls her “pumpkin” and playfully he’ll call her a “gremlin” or “imp” and then the other women were gradually given one. The first time he called Mary anything other than her name, he nearly had his head taken off until she learned it was a force of habit that he couldn’t shake. The same went for the rest of the women he interacted with.

Mary rolls her eyes. “C’mon, Mary Ann’ll throw a fit if we wait any longer.”

“Could you carry me, Stan?”

“Sure, kid, but you’ll owe me,” he says playfully while picking her up and putting her on his shoulders.

“Deal!” She says and then hugs his head so that she stays in place.

It took him about a week before she put her on his shoulders after the first time for fear she’d try and snap his neck while up there. After a long month of observation, he managed to deduct that if anyone was outside of the plan the adults had in trying to trick him into a false lull it was this little girl. The rest- despite seeming nice- are still a work in progress. He gives it a good four more before he trusts them enough to have his back in a fight.

On the walk Stan’s eyes constantly shift, looking for someone that’ll be wanting to get the drop on him.

Old habits die hard.

They end up in the tent and most of the people around their twenties are there- save for the odd thirty year old or three.

“Hey, Stan,” a young woman a year or two younger than him says with a large smile.

She’s short- only coming to his chest- with natural dark red hair that goes to her shoulders, pale, freckled skin, and hazel eyes. She was a little on the chubby side, but she was a cute girl nonetheless. She also wears practical clothes for whatever the occasion. He often found her blushing whenever he called her “doll” or “sweetheart” or the like. It seems she has a crush on him and though he does indulge in a little flirting (mostly subconsciously), he doesn’t have much interest in her (or any of the women here since he doesn’t know if he can trust them). The only women he really flirts with in a playful manner are Ruth and Rita who usually tell him to “go on somewhere with that mess.”

“Hey, Hattie,” he says with a smile.

She smiles and he has to admit it’s one of the prettiest smiles that he’s ever seen. “I’m glad you came.”

“So what’s all the hype about?” Stan demands while putting Audrey on the ground.

“We’re just goofing off,” a woman a few years older than him says.

She’s fairly tall- only an inch shorter then him at most- with a muscular build being a stage hand. She has her dirty blond hair cut short in what could only be described as a pixie cut. Her eyes were two different colors- one green and the other brown which fascinated him (not that he’d ever admit it).

This is Mary- one of three- that’s called Mary Ann. She’s a bit of a fiery one and not someone anyone wants to be on the bad side of. Thankfully she’s been taking it easy on Stanley since he’s new, but she’s snapped at him enough times for him to take caution with her in everything.

Stan scoffs. “I could’ve goofed off in my trailer.”

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t’ve gotten to learn to do some amazing things, cool cat,” Mary Ann says.

“Like what?” Stan asks with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Well for now, we play with _this_ little munchkin!,” a man somewhere around Stan’s age growls while ticking Audrey and causing her to squeal and giggle.

Samuel- there are two Samuels so he’s called Sammy- he stands a head shorter than Stan, but he’s got a bit of bulk to him being a body builder. His skin is of an olive complexion and his dark eyes have an ever present twinkle in them. His straight black hair is slicked back and he wears it in a low ponytail when he doesn’t let it hang lose.

“And after that?”

“Oh, you’ll see. _After_ this munchkin goes to bed,” a man around Stan’s age says while ruffling the girl’s hair.

Samson- one of two who likes to be called Sam- tall and almost bony with dark skin, kinky black hair in a small afro with thick sideburns framing his face and his dark eyes twinkle with affection.

For the next hour the adults play around and play whatever Audrey suggests- she’s the oldest _little_ kid and the ones closest to her age are thirteen and a newborn so most indulge her when not sending her back to her mother.

Finally came bedtime.

“Can’t I stay up with you guys?” Audrey asks.

Mary picks up her daughter. “Sorry, baby, you’ve gotta go to bed.”

“Awww,” Audrey grumbles. “Night everybody!”

“Night, Audrey,” they say say.

"Ready to have some fun?” Hattie asks.

“I guess. What’ve you got for me?” Stan asks.

“Do you like risk games?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, I’m pretty good at those… what games’ve you got?”

“Well, these aren’t exactly gambling games with money… Louis doesn’t like us doing any of this stuff around the kids or in general actually, but since he’s out tonight…” Mary Ann says with a mischievous smirk that reminds him of some of the guys he used to run with on the streets.

He doesn’t know if he likes this- this seems like a band of mischievous misfits that means a lot of trouble. Sure, they may have good hearts and intentions, but they have an edge of danger to them- even Hattie.

“And what’d that be exactly?” Stan asks while crossing his arms over his chest.

“Throwing knives, doing high risk tricks, walkin’ the tight rope, jumpin’ on the trampoline, just a bunch of fun dumb stuff,” Sam admits with a shrug.

Stan rubs his chin with thought, eyes darting around for escape routes even though he knows all of them already. “I dunno, it sounds kinda risky… but I don’t see why not.”

“Sweet!”

It was as reckless as they said it would be. People would stand in front of a wall and let others throw knives at them (they didn’t question why Stan refused to do it and just accepted it) and played other knife games, wrestle, and do tricks on the trampoline and on the tightrope with the net beneath.

“C’mon, Stan! It’ll be fun,” Keith- practically Sammy’s twin- says from his place on the tightrope. “Just come on up.”

“I don’t wanna do that,” Stan insists.

“C’mon, it’s not bad,” Hattie encourages. “We have a harness.”

Stan glares at them and backs toward the nearest exit. “I said I don’t wanna do it, now drop it.”

“Why don’t you wanna do it?” Mary Ann asks.

_The blindfold. The knife. A hand gripping his shirt being the only thing keeping him from plummeting to his death._

“Stan, are you alright? You look pale,” Hattie notes while reaching forward to feel his forehead.

He jerks away from her and says, “I’m done. You guys have fun.”

He rushes out of the tent and breaks into a run until he’s on the outskirts of the camp. He pants as he walks to a nearby hill and then lies down on the side that will allow him to stay hidden form the camp.

His chest is tight and he feels he’s on the verge of a panic attack- or at the _very_ least, tears. He closes his eyes and counts as high as 139 before he feels he has a grip on reality.

Once he finally has his breath to a steady rate, he pulls out his back of cigarettes and begins smoking, being careful so as not to set anything on fire.

He doesn’t know how long he lies there smoking before he hears someone walking nearby. His knife is at the ready in an instant and he whirls around and sees Louis standing there with his hands in his pockets and a pipe clenched between his teeth.

Stan puts away his knife and relaxes a little. “Sorry…”

“It’s alright,” Louis assures while walking forward and then sits beside Stan and looks up at the stars. “Rough night?”

“Yeah…”

“Wanna talk about it?” Louis asks while lighting his pipe.

Stanley takes a drag of his cigarette and then lets out air through his nose. “Not really.”

A few puffs and then a quiet sigh. “Sounds like you’ve been hanging around my wild bunch for the first time.”

Stan makes a confused face.

“I’ve been keeping you busy for a reason… while everyone here is good people, some of them- especially _that_ group tends to be a bit more… rambunctious and _reckless_.”

“I’ll say,” Stan grumbles.

Louis stares at him for a long time before he turns his gaze to the horizon. “They didn’t force you to do anything- right?”

“No,” Stan replies automatically- no snitching, that’s what gets people killed. “They tried to get me to do something and wanted t’ know why I didn’t wanna do it… they were just a bit too much.”

“I can understand that… they have no right to try and pressure you into something you don’t want to do, so come tell me if they do in the future- alright? They can still be a bit childish in that aspect- not realizing that their pushiness could hurt people… but know that they will apologize when they find you.”

Stanley decides not to voice he knows what those type of people are like- good intentions but wrong methods- because he was constantly around them and happened to be one himself- or… at least used to be before-

“If you need anything, I’ll be in the kitchen.”

“Sure thing,” Stanley grumbles as he flicks the embers off of the cigarette.

Louis squeezes his shoulder supportively and then makes his way back to the camp.

Stanley stays out there a bit longer, smoking what he’s decided to be his last cigarette before he goes back and curls into bed in his trailer.

As he stands up and stomps out the last ember he hears slow clapping and his eyes whirl to a sickeningly familiar face.

“Hey, kid. Miss me?” Tony grumbles while stalking forward, flanked by two large men.

Stan doesn’t say anything and turns and breaks into a run, but before he can reach the top of the hill he’s tackled to the ground.

“HE-”

One man gags him and he feels the rope being tied around is wrists.

“Shhh, don’t want anyone else getting hurt, do we?” Tony asks with a devilish gleam in his eyes.

Stan’s heart drops and he realizes that he’s not going to be saved this time.

Something hard cracks against his head and his vision goes black.


	13. Through Both Sets of Eyes: Missing Piece

“How’d it go?” Ruth asks while putting a card down on the table.

Rita writes something down and then gathers the cards in her hands to shuffle them.

“He’s winding down. Kids’ll probably go lookin’ for him to apologize soon,” he replies while clenching the pipe between his teeth and rolling up his sleeves. “Deal me in.”

“Poor boy’s had it rough,” Rita sighs. “But he seems to have calmed down considerable compared to before.”

“Yes. At least he agreed to hanging out with his peers for once,” Ruth agrees.

Louis takes his cards and looks at them before taking his pipe out of his mouth. “What’re we playin’?”

“Hand n’ foot,” Ruth answers.

Louis already has most of his cards organized for spades, but he rearranges it for the game at hand.

 _Crappy hand,_ he thinks with a frown.

“Shit,” Ruth hisses under her breath.

His gaze traves to Rita’s face and he sees a grimace on her face. _Crappy hands all around…_

At least one of them usually has a good hand in the beginning.

Ruth pales- she looks like she’s just swallowed some medicine.

“Ruth, what is it?” Louis asks.

“Bad feeling,” she mutters.

A knock on the door; something not too uncommon, but ominous nonetheless with such timing.

Louis puts his cards face down on the table and goes to the door and as he opens it, he takes his pipe out so he can speak. “Yes?”

He blinks when he sees a worried Hattie and Sam.

“Have you seen Stan? He’s not back in his trailer,” Hattie asks.

“I saw him not twenty minutes ago,” Louis says and then glances back at Ruth.

“Go, I’ll play your hand,” she says.

“Rita, make sure she doesn’t cheat,” he says absentmindedly while making his way out.

“Sure thing,” she replies.

He makes his way out of the trailer and goes straight toward the hill where he left Stan and he doesn’t care whether or not the others follow, he’s just concerned with finding the young man he left here.

He stands at the top of the hill and he doesn’t see the man anywhere. He goes down and looks at scuffs in the grass and a cold sense of dread settles into his stomach as he realizes that Stan was taken.

Soon after the rage sets in and he flexes his fingers.

“Louis?” Sam asks worriedly.

“You two head back in and tell Ruth that I’m taking a long walk,” Louis tightly replies.

“Okay,” Hattie says and starts walking back.

Sam looks at him for a long moment- usually “long walks” weren’t anything good and could last days or weeks which meant the Cirque was at a stand still in one place with only spaced out shows. Louis didn’t come back from one of his walks until the accomplished task is done and there’s always worry that one day he won’t come back.

“Sam,” Louis says sternly while giving him a look.

“Yes, sir,” he grumbles and then follows after Hattie.

Louis sucks smoke into his mouth and then he blows out the smoke slowly so that it curls around his mouth almost making him look like an angered dragon whose hoard was stolen.

He kneels down and looks at the scuff marks to get any idea for which direction he was dragged off to.

He has every intention of bringing the boy back and make whoever took him pay double for whatever happens to him.

_“Protect my baby no matter what, okay?”_

_“Yes, ma’am, I promise. I will do everything I can to take care of him.”  
_

“And I don’t break my promises,” he says to himself at the memory.

* * *

Stan groans quietly as he rouses into wakefulness. His head is pounding and he feels about ready to throw up and all of this is before he even dares to open his eyes. He can feel his body is tied to a chair what with his legs and torso now constricted in their movement.

 _Damn it, Stan, you let down your guard,_ he mentally scolds.

He cracks open his eyes and he’s in a mostly barren warehouse and he’s surrounded by men- there’s at least thirty- and in front of him is Tony.

“You’ve been real lucky- I give you that- but looks like that luck’s run out, kid,” he sneers.

Stan’s nose wrinkles. “Looks like you’re finally gettin’ some. Only explanation for why a punk like you managed t-”

He gasps in pain as he’s given a solid blow to the chest and he wheezes, trying to get some air in his lungs.

“Still a wiseass, I see. Won’t last long.”

Stan’s dark eyes glare up at Tony and he wheezes out, “Bastard.”

This earns him a sharp kick to his knee from the angered man. Stanley cries out as not only his knee is kicked, but his leg digs into a corner in the chair.

The man’s temper was something fierce, but it was more like that of a child than anything else.

Tony slicks back his hair and takes a breath. “Boys, rough ‘im up a bit.”

And the men close in on him and a blindfold is put on.

* * *

Louis’ taken to smoking his cigarettes on his search- he doesn’t have the right mindset to enjoy smoking from his pipe- not with Stan missing for the past four days. He hasn’t even dared to show his face back there- he’s going back with Stan one way or another (and he prays this boy is alive to bring back).

He’s asked around town where the abandoned places usually are and he’s checked two houses and an abandoned factory. The last place before getting down to the shady businesses would be the abandoned warehouse that was due for demolition within the next month.

The man’s eyes had turned several shades darker from a deep rooted rage that left him aching for a fight- something that he hadn’t felt since-

Six cars parked out front and they look fairly new. Only someone with money would have one and only a crook would be parked in front of this place if they had some shady business to take care of.

He finishes his sixth cigarette and then stomps it out before he strides forward. Something tells him that this is definitely where Stanley is being held and whoever got him has a lot of men.

 _Even better. Need to get my frustrations out,_ he thinks as he enters the warehouse.

It seems that they’re in a specific section and the side he entered in wasn’t well guarded. Rookie mistake.

He strides in like he belongs and once he sets his gaze on Stanley- beaten bloody- his eyes go from an angered navy to an enraged denim color.

“Interesting. So many men just for one kid. You must really be a punk,” Louis says as he lights up his seventh cigarette.

“Louis?” Stanley’s rough, quiet voice asks.

“Who the fuck are you?” Tony asks and then his eyes light up with recognition. “You’re that old bastard that helped ‘im before.”

“Yes, I am… didn’t I tell you not to mess with the boy again?” He takes a deep drag of his cigarette and then lets out a breath of smoke.

“What’re you gonna do? You’re outnumbered, old man,” Tony mocks.

“Run,” Stan begs quietly.

“Shut up,” Tony snaps at the young man.

“Ru-”

“I said shut up!”

Stanley groans in pain as his head’s kicked.

“You shouldn’t’ve done that,” Louis says while standing straight and taking one last puff of his cigarette.

Tony scoffs. “So what?”

Louis drops the half smoked cigarette to the floor and puts it out. “You’re ‘bout t’ find out, kid.”

* * *

Stan is prepared to hear Louis screaming in pain, but he’s surprised to hear the opposite. There are a lot of exclamations of pain and the dropping of bodies and occasionally- and he’s sure he’s hallucinating when he says this- a sound similar to that of a flamethrower.

This goes on for something like ten minutes before everything goes quiet.

Stanley’s heart thuds loudly in his ears and he tries- for the hundredth time- to get his hands free, but all he succeeds in doing is giving himself rope burn.

Then there’s the sound of footsteps and then Louis’ voice, “Stop squirming.”

Stan does as told and his hands are untied. Immediately Stan’s hands move to rip the blindfold off his face. This had been put on so that his pain would be intensified- the bastards.

His first sight happens to be a pair of worried cerulean eyes.

Stan is overwhelmed with emotion from pain to relief. His body shakes for a moment and then he feels warm arms wrap around him in an embrace- something very foreign to him at the moment. After several seconds he puts his arms around the other man’s torso and lowers his face to the man’s shoulder. Tears threaten to fall, but he refuses and settles for funny breathing to keep from crying.

“I’m sorry,” Louis says quietly as his hands gently stroke the thick brunette hair.

Stan pulls away and gives him a suspicious look and speaks with a rough voice- that’s what comes with having no water save for a few gulps once or twice to keep him alive. “For what?”

“For not watching you better… I promise you and your mother I would protect you and… and I failed to keep you from getting hurt,” Louis sighs. “Please forgive me for my negligence.”

Stan stares at him for a long time. This man is apologizing for something that isn’t his fault- that _clearly_ isn’t his fault. He’s begging for forgiveness for Stan’s terrible luck. It makes no sense.

“There’s nothin’ t’ forgive. Notchure fault,” Stan shrugs while looking at the ground and then grimaces when that proves to be painful.

“But it is. I’m supposed to protect you from this. I promised that I would and look at where we’ve ended up.”

Stan’s eyes lift from the ground in front of him and he looks around at all the unconscious (okay some of them may be dead) men lying about and Tony… Tony was actually nowhere to be found. There are scorch marks on the ground and some men have third degree burns.

“What… what happened?”

Louis rubs the back of his neck with a shy smile. “I was… a bit angry when I found out you had been kidnapped. I couldn’t bring myself to hold back very much.”

Stan’s eyes widen in shock. “ _This_ is holding back?”

“Not really,” Louis shrugs. “I mean, I did manage to find a flamethrower in here.”

_That explains it…_

“Can we… can we go home?” Stan asks tiredly.

“Of course,” Louis replies.

Stan hisses in pain as he stands with the older man’s help. His entire body aches and he finds it a little difficult to breathe. He’s starving and thirsty and he just wants nothing more than to curl up in his bed and sleep for several days.

As it turns out walking hurts a ton so- despite Stan’s protests- he ends up being carried on Louis’ back.

* * *

Stan rests his cheek on the man’s shoulder and Louis glances and sees the boy’s asleep at the moment.

 _Best to let him sleep it off,_ he thinks while turning to face forward.

He trudges onward back to the cirque with Stan resting on his back and he listens closely to the boy’s steady breathing.

Once he’s within sight of the trailers he picks up the pace a bit and the first person to see him happens to be Hattie and she runs forward.

“Louis! You found him… is he okay?”

“Go get Ruth and Sarah,” Louis orders. “Tell them to meet me in the medical trailer.”

“Yes, sir,” she says and runs back in.

Thomas sees Louis carrying Stan near the medical trailer and asks, “Need help?”

“Just open the door,” Louis grunts while jerking his chin toward the door.

Thomas does so without hesitation and Louis climbs in and then carefully as he can places him on the bed. As soon as Stan’s weight is off his back he sits in his chair and groans quietly.

 _You’re getting old, Louis,_ he thinks to himself while rubbing his back.

“Four days? You’re losing your touch,” Ruth says as she enters and goes over to Stan with worried gleam in her hazel eyes.

Another woman enters after Ruth and kneels in front of the boy. Her long solver hair pulled into a messy bun and her glazed brown eyes stare ahead as her wrinkled fingers trace the lines of his face.

Louis knows better than to retort and merely takes out another cigarette. “Is he gonna be alright?”

Sarah makes a face and takes several moments before she nods. “Yes, he’ll be alright… I smell your blood, Louis.”

He glances at his forearm and shakes his head. “I’ll be fine.”

Sarah makes an unconvinced noise. “Ruth, wrap his arm. I’ll take care of the boy.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Louis rolls his eyes in exasperation.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, boy,” she scolds.

He smiles sheepishly. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Gimme your arm,” Ruth says.

Louis wordlessly holds out his right arm and Ruth quickly wraps his arm with deft fingers. Sadly this routine is familiar for the both of them, though they try not to think about it.

“Thank you,” he says as she ties it off.

“Be more careful,” she scolds.

“I will,” he assures while putting the cigarette between his lips.

“You better not smoke that in here,” Sarah says.

“No, ma’am,” he assures and then opens the door. “I’m taking a walk. I’ll be back by morning.”

“Alright. And when you get back, there’s paperwork,” Ruth reminds.

He groans sarcastically. “Thanks for reminding me.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” she teases and then closes the door after him.

Louis rolls his eyes and lights his cigarette before starting his walk.


	14. Not Quite Right

Stan groans as he wakes up and blinks frowns with confusion as he feels a hand running over his face.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Louis sighs with relief.

“What happened t’ you?” Stan asks, looking at the older man.

Louis’ hair is unkempt, haphazardly pushes back with most likely shaky hands- a disheveled version of it’s usual look. There are dark circles under his tired blue eyes and he’s in wrinkled clothes- he probably hasn’t taken a shower in at least a day.

Louis gives a bitter laugh. “Look at who’s talking…”

Stan was in even worse shape, bandages all over and one eye halfway shut and his entire body aches. He’d been roughed up pretty badly and he doesn’t know how long he’s been out.

“Doesn’t matter,” Stan shrugs.

Louis’ features harden in a way Stan hasn’t seen before. “It _does_ matter. You got hurt.”

“Not like-” Stan bites his tongue and cuts himself off before he could spill.

Blue eyes narrow suspiciously. “Not like what?”

Stan feels like his own mother is staring down his very soul (and he’s always had trouble lying to her). “Not… not like it ain’t happened before.”

There’s a long, tense silence and Stan’s eyes immediately flicker to the man’s hands for not even a full moment and he sees them clenching and unclenching.

“It’s happened before?” A nod. “Who did it?”

Stan looks away and says, “Don’t wanna talk about it.”

A heavy sigh. “Alright… here, drink some water.”

Stan takes the water and chugs about half of it with one breath and then sets it down for a breather. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was until he had taken the first gulp.

Louis takes out his cigarettes and then looks like he’s about to ask something, but the door opens before he can.

“You’d better not offer that boy a cigarette,” Ruth says.

 _How did she even know that?_ Stan wonders. _Maybe it smells a lot like smoke and I didn’t notice?_

“Yes, ma’am,” Louis replies while rolling his eyes and putting the cigarette in his mouth and stuffing the pack back into his pocket.

Ruth ignores the man hereafter and focuses on the one bedridden. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Stan shrugs, wincing at the movement.

Ruth frowns at him. “You liar.”

Stan sighs quietly. “My shoulder hurts a lot and my eye ain’t feelin’ like sunshine either.”

Ruth gently moves his hair from his eyes and then says quietly, “Try not to give me anymore heart attacks, eh?”

“I’ll try,” Stan says and the woman looks about ready to hit him.

“I don’t know where you get your smart mouth,” she grumbles.

 _Ma._ He shrugs, “Just a natural charasmatic trait.”

“Mhm,” she hums and then looks back at the door as it opens. “Oh, there you are.”

“Hello Miss Sarah,” Louis and Stan say in time with one another.

“Boys,” she says. “You two are in here just as much as a nursing mother.”

“Reckless Boys” is what she’s labeled them as.

Stan glances at Louis again to see if there are any other wounds on him and he notices the man’s got tape around his knuckles the same color as his skin. Easy enough to go unnoticed.

Stan has bashful blush on his face and he doesn’t know what to say to that.

“You know you love seeing us,” Louis says.

“Not like this,” she grumbles irritably and then looks at Stan’s wounds. “You’re healing up nicely- a bit faster than average so you should be ready to work in about two weeks I’d say.”

“Two weeks?” Stan asks with raised eyebrows.

With the beating he took (and thankfully without anything more broken than a couple of fingers on his right hand) he should be out for at least three or four weeks.

“Yes, two weeks,” Sarah answers and then sternly says, “I’d better not see you in here for something other than a common cold within the next year.”

“I can’t make any promises, ma’am,” he answers and then takes another gulp of water.

“Are you hungry, hun?” Sarah asks after a moment.

“Not really,” he admits.

The mere thought of food makes his stomach churn.

“At least eat some crackers?” Ruth asks.

He assesses himself and nods slowly. “Yeah, I could eat some crackers.”

Louis holds out a plate of them and causes Stan to blink in surprise. “Ruth figured that’d be the only thing you were up to eating. Here, let me refill your glass.”

Stanley exchanges his water for crackers and Louis gets up to go to the sink to refill it.

Stan isn’t used to being nursed and is still thrown off at being taken care of, but… he can accept it a bit better.

Stan eats the saltine crackers and makes a face as he swallows- apparently his throat is still too raw to swallow things aside from beverages with comfort. Louis helps him drink the water to get the dry crackers down and Stan makes a grunt of appreciation.

Much to his surprise there’s a knock on the door. 

Ruth walks over to the door and opens it. “Can I help you?”

“Is Stan awake yet? Is he alright?”

_Hattie?_

“He’s awake and he’s doing alright,” Ruth assures.

“Can we see him?”

_Sam?_

Stan looks at Louis with confusion and he says, “They were worried when they didn’t find you the day you were taken.”

“He’s just woken up,” Ruth answers.

“But-” Audrey starts, but the stern look on Ruth’s face shuts that right up. “Later.”

“Let ‘em in, Miss Ruth!” Stan calls- he can’t keep little Audrey out.

Ruth scowls at him and then rolls her eyes. “Fine.”

“Stan!”

Audrey’s the first he sees and she nearly jumps on him, but Louis is quick to catch her to prevent this.

“Be careful. Stan’s still hurting,” Louis says.

“Let ‘er jump on me,” Stan waves it off and then reaches over and pulls Audrey into a hug.

“I missed you,” she says quietly while hugging him tightly.

“Missed you, too,” he sighs quietly while patting her head.

Hattie and Sam share a look of uncertainty and seem to have a silent debate.

Sam- it seems- is the chosen speaker. “Stan… we’re sorry for being jerks that night.”

“And we’re sorry we caused this,” Hattie adds, gesturing to his entire body.

“You didn’t cause this. I was just being stupid,” Stan insists.

Hattie shakes her head in denial. “No, if we hadn’t been jerks to cause you to run out on your own-”

“Those guys were gonna come for me sooner or later. I had it comin’ t’ me. It’s not your fault,” Stan says firmly.

“That still doesn’t mean our actions didn’t lead to this as well,” Sam insists. “Am I right?”

“Not quite right,” Ruth intercepts. “Everyone and no one in this circus could have done something to prevent this, but what’s done is done and we can’t change that. All we can do is move forward the best we can.”

Stan grows quiet and his eyes lower to the red hair on his chest. _When did she fall asleep?_

“Yes, ma’am,” Sam and Hattie say quietly.

“… Stan.”

He looks up at her amber eyes and sees that there will be no give on her end. “Yes, ma’am.”

Recovery goes just as Sarah predicted it would and he was up and about in two weeks. The Misfits were the main ones to take care of him- a way to make up for their behavior. Louis- Stan’s sure- would’ve been at his side the entire time if it weren’t for his duties to take care of the circus and all the people within it.

Now that he can move around and is allowed to work a little the people he works with are constantly keeping an eye on him and taking large loads off of him. Even those he doesn’t know all that well.

Through this experience- despite his frustrations of being babies- he’s grown closer with the people of the circus through this experience. He doesn’t feel as on edge around them anymore by the time he’s fully recovered. He doesn’t know when but they’ve somehow managed to work their way into his heart enough for him to call them friends… maybe if he stretches it a little… even family.


End file.
